#Lazy Man Natural Grills

[grillpartshub-blog]

Lazy Man Barbecue- Built in Grill- Natural Gas Model SHOP NOW!!

[capquinn]

ok we've been losing our minds about seeing quinn with kids but imagine him losing his mind seeing you with kids and babies. they're just so naturally drawn to you, smiling and giggling at you. when it's time to leave the kids pout, the babies cry and refuse to let go of you. it breaks his heart a little, but then he thinks about how you have that effect on kids and his heart is just so full and warm. he can't stop smiling thinking about how great of a mom you're going to be one day

It’s something Quinn’s been noticing more and more — how babies and kids always seem to be drawn to you, like there’s some invisible pull. He sees it everywhere, little moments that only fuel the quiet ache he’s been carrying, a bad case of baby fever that just keeps getting stronger.

It was a late summer afternoon at his friend’s BBQ, the kind of day where everything felt a little softer around the edges, the air warm and filled with lazy laughter and the smell of grilling food. Quinn was mid-conversation with a few of his buddies when he glanced over and spotted you down on the driveway, a piece of colourful chalk in your hand, showing his friend’s daughter how to draw a flower.

You were laughing, your voice floating over the soft hum of conversation as you patiently guided her tiny hand.

“Like this, see?” you were saying, helping her press the chalk down firmly. “And a little harder here — see how it makes the colour brighter?”

The little girl, determined to get it right, nodded with intense concentration, her face scrunched up in that serious way kids get when they’re trying so hard. She pressed down on the chalk with all her might, the green and purple smudges already staining her fingers. And you, just as focused, knelt beside her, not minding that your knees were getting chalky too.

Quinn couldn’t look away. The sight of you like that, so at ease, laughing with a child who was barely up to your waist, tugged at something in him. He imagined a version of this scene in a few years’ time — maybe it was a little girl with your eyes, or his determined frown, a toddler who insisted on doing everything by herself. He could already see the two of you, that same effortless connection, sharing these small, beautiful moments, and his heart did this odd little flip that made his chest feel warm and tight at the same time.

The little girl tugged on your hand, proudly holding up her chalk drawing. “Look! I did it!”

Your smile lit up, and you nodded, leaning closer to inspect it. “You did! That’s amazing! I think you’re a pro at this, honestly.”

Quinn’s friend nudged him with an amused grin. “Man, she’s a natural. I think the kids like her more than us.”

Quinn only nodded, distracted, not fully hearing what was said because his mind was spinning. It wasn’t just that you were good with kids — it was the way you seemed to understand them, to genuinely enjoy being there with them, in their world. And suddenly, this idea started to blossom, the thought of a life where this wasn’t just an afternoon at a BBQ but something that happened every day. He pictured you like this, kneeling in your own driveway with a little one by your side, his heart pounding with a kind of certainty he’d never felt before.

Lost in thought, he didn’t realise he was smiling until you caught his eye and gave him a playful little wave. Quinn’s chest tightened, a shy grin pulling at his lips as he waved back. He barely heard his friend teasing him about being “smitten” because in that moment, all he could think about was how right this felt, how natural, and how he wanted that future with you more than anything.

It happened again a few weeks later at the grocery store, a place Quinn usually breezed through, his list memorised, rarely giving more than a glance to the colourful chaos of the cereal aisle. But that day, he was momentarily caught up, staring at the endless choices, debating between two boxes. That’s when he heard it — a tiny giggle that somehow cut through the chatter of shoppers, the hum of the store. Glancing over, he saw you a few feet away, your attention fully focused on a baby sitting in a shopping cart beside you.

The baby, not much older than a year, was staring up at you with wide, amazed eyes, completely entranced as you wiggled your fingers and made a soft, silly noise, your face lit with an easy smile. You repeated the sound, and the baby’s mouth dropped open, then let out another round of giggles, that beautiful, innocent laughter that would soften anyone’s heart.

Quinn couldn’t help but pause, frozen mid-decision, just watching. The baby’s mother had been focused on reading the back of an oatmeal box, scanning ingredients with the usual distracted look of a tired parent. But after a moment, she glanced up, noticing the small, quiet exchange unfolding beside her cart. Her gaze softened as she took in the sight of her baby reaching toward you, chubby fingers stretching, drawn to the warmth in your playful smile,

And then Quinn’s heart did that strange, achy thing it had been doing lately, where he felt both immensely full and oddly vulnerable, like he’d stumbled onto a vision of the future without realising it.

He imagined you like this, but with your own baby — a little one with his dark hair and your bright smile, or maybe a mix of everything he loved most about you. The two of you would share that same joyful bubble, so completely at ease with each other, lost in some private little world only you two would understand.

Quinn placed both cereal boxes into the basket, feeling a strange warmth build in his chest, one that he couldn’t seem to shake. His fingers tightened around the handle of the basket, the weight of the thought filling him with a kind of quiet longing. It was such a simple scene, one he’d seen a dozen times with strangers, but with you…it was different. He was already imagining a life that was filled with moments like this, and the ache that came with it was exhilarating, a reminder of how badly he wanted this — wanted you, wanted this life with you and all that came with it.

“Hey, are you ready?” you asked, glancing over and catching his gaze, breaking him out of his reverie.

He blinked, realised the mother and baby had moved on, then nodded, feeling a soft blush creep up his neck as he tried to play it cool.

“Yeah, just… got distracted,” he muttered, but he couldn’t hide the small, knowing smile that stayed with him all the way to the checkout, the warmth of the thought still lingering as he followed you down the aisle.

The feeling roots itself deeply, one he can’t quite ignore as he watches you with his cousin’s 8-month-old, who’s been wide-eyed and mesmerised by you since the moment you walked in. The baby, fussy with everyone else, settles effortlessly in your arms, chubby fingers curling tightly around your shirt, her small head resting trustingly against your shoulder.

Quinn’s cousin chuckles, watching you both. “You’ve got some kind of superpower,” she says, amused.

You smile down at the baby, shifting your arms to hold her closer as you sway gently, instinctively.

“She just needed someone to chat with,” you murmur, your voice soft and soothing.

You don’t see Quinn across the room, his gaze fixed on you, like he’s trying to memorise this scene, the tenderness in the way you hold the baby, your gentle laugh, the look in your eyes. His chest tightens, that strange warmth filling him again that’s both beautiful and a little overwhelming.

From beside him, his mom nudges his arm lightly. “You’ve got a look there, Quinn,” Ellen says quietly, watching him watch you.

Quinn gives a faint smile, eyes still locked on you, almost in disbelief.

“She’s… good with kids,” he says softly, as if the realisation itself has him feeling a little unsteady. “Just — look at her.”

Ellen’s face softens, a knowing smile lighting her eyes. “Some people just have that kind of warmth. Kids feel it. She’s going to be such a wonderful mom someday.”

Quinn glances at her, but his gaze quickly finds its way back to you, his heart doing an uneven thud as he watches you look down at the baby, cooing softly as her eyes close. You look up then, meeting his eyes, and you send him the sweetes smile, one that makes him feel like he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be.

His mom places a hand on his back. “You’d make a wonderful dad, too, Quinn,” she whispers.

Quinn swallows hard, feeling a sudden swell of emotion he wasn’t prepared for. His mom’s words settle over him, and he feels it, the truth of them, sinking in deep. He’s always thought about it in passing, but the whole idea feels closer, more real, like something he could almost reach out and touch.

“You really think so?” he murmurs, voice barely audible, eyes flickering to his mom.

Ellen nods, her hand a steady presence on his back. “Absolutely,” she whispers, surprised that he even has to ask, her smile softening. “Have you two talked about kids lately?”

Quinn’s face flushes slightly as he keeps his gaze on you.

“A little,” he admits quietly, a small, almost shy smile creeping onto his face. “I mean, I think about it all the time.”

Ellen chuckles, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. “Well, whenever you’re both ready, you’ll be wonderful parents.” She pauses, trying to keep her smile from widening. “I can see it already. A Baby Hughes with those gorgeous dark waves,” she laughs, reaching up to ruffle his hair.

Quinn shakes his head, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he gently swats her hand away. “Mum,” he murmurs, trying to hide how much he’s secretly loving the idea.

Ellen laughs, her hand falling to his shoulder in a gentle squeeze. “No pressure, of course,” she says, though there’s a glimmer of excitement in her eyes that she can’t quite hide. “But when you do, I know you two will make a great team.” She looks back over at you, voice dropping. “You both have so much love to give.”

As he watches you across the room, swaying gently with his cousin’s baby asleep in your arms, he can’t shake the feeling that someday, hopefully soon, this picture will be a little different — a little closer to home.

Later that night, in the cosy guest room at his parents’ house, you lie curled up against Quinn’s side, watching the soft flicker of the TV in the dim light. His arm is wrapped around you, fingers tracing gentle patterns on your shoulder as you both unwind from the family gathering.

In his other hand, he’s casually scrolling through his phone, when he pauses, then turns the screen your way. It’s a picture his cousin posted of her daughter in your arms at the party. In the photo, you’re smiling softly, looking down at the baby as she rests against you, and the sight of it, even through a screen, makes his chest warm.

“That’s a good picture,” he murmurs, his voice quiet, thoughtful.

You smile, curling up closer to him, resting your head against his shoulder. Something about that moment earlier had felt so natural, so easy. And as you look at the picture, that feeling stirs again, warming you in a way that feels both exciting and a little nerve-wracking.

After a pause, you swallow softly, gathering your thoughts, and then, before you can second-guess yourself, you say, “hace you thought about having… you know, a baby? Starting a family?”

Quinn tenses for a split second, and you can feel his heart pick up, thumping faster under your cheek. He pulls back a little to look at you, eyes wide with surprise.

“Did my mom talk to you?” he asks, a hint of suspicion, as if he’s caught onto something.

You let out a laugh, the tension breaking instantly, and sit up, leaning back against the headboard as you turn your body toward him, raising an eyebrow. “No, why would she?”

Quinn rubs the back of his neck, chuckling softly. “She, uh… she sort of mentioned it earlier. Said she thought we’d make a great team as parents.”

He glances down, a hint of a blush dusting his cheeks, and there’s a shy look in his eyes when he looks back up at you. The gentle vulnerability in his expression makes your heart squeeze, and you can’t help but smile.

“So,” you say, voice small, “what do you think?”

He shifts a little closer, his hand sliding to the back of your knee, fingers tracing gentle patterns. “I’ve actually thought about it a lot lately,” he says, his voice steady, direct, like he’s sharing a part of himself he’s been holding onto for a while. He glances at you, his hand giving your thigh a soft squeeze.

There’s a quiet intensity in his eyes, an openness that makes your heart flutter. “I just… I can see it, you know?” he continues, a faint smile tugging at his lips as his eyes linger on yours. “Us, with a little one. And…” He chuckles, pausing, looking a bit shy, “I wouldn’t mind if that happened sooner rather than later.”

You feel a warmth rise in your cheeks, the blush creeping up as you take in his words, your heart skipping a beat. He’s watching you with such earnestness, a quiet hope in his gaze that matches the longing you’ve kept close to your own heart.

You say it softly, almost like a secret, “I’ve been thinking about it, too.”

The words settle into the quiet between you, filling the space with a warmth that’s been building, unspoken, for weeks. Neither of you rushes to say more, just letting the admission linger, letting it shape into something real and close.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

i wrote homeward a little while ago that sorta touches on this too if u wanna check that out too hehe

requests are open - let’s daydream!

[ceasarslegion]

Tboy swag is fun and all but can we also acknowledge that, just like that post to transfems about how HRT will probably make you look like someones mom and thats kinda awesome, if youre transmasc you will probably look like someones dad in your middle age and thats also kinda awesome

I dont know about you guys, but 5 years on HRT now if im not in pajamas or my work uniform i default to fits like beige shorts and polo shirts in the summer or jeans and sweater vests in the fall and winter. I wake up with stubble that im sometimes too lazy to shave and ive worked this job long enough that i dont care if i look kinda scruffy on the clock anymore. I listen to classic rock and i like to grill, i fantasize about spending vacations at cancun beach resorts sipping margaritas at the oceanside and coming back with a tan. I so naturally fall into the grill dad archetype that a garage woodshop and saying "guess theyll let anyone in here!" to my buddy at the chilis is likely in my future.

And thats like, fine. Not every trans man is going to fall into this archetype of wildcard punk fashion chanting "be gay, do crimes." A lot of us are going to be pretty regular dudes with nothing all that stereotypically "counterculture" about us. And we'll still be trans. Because you cant actually tell whos trans based on vibes alone. Its still a form of stereotyping when its an inner-community stereotype youre playing to.

And its kind of awesome to look at your future and see a middle aged grill dad (in all but the children) whose life can be made by driving a red convertible and blasting Boston down the highway halfway into a vegas road trip with the boys cracking open beers in the passenger seats, actually. Trans people are everywhere and live all kinds of lives, not just the ones you see on tumblr.

[akwolfgrl]

Lazy day day 6

(I want to write more of this lol)

Sanji awoke feeling fuzzy and confused, his mouth and throat were dry as the desert they had tracked through to help Vivi. He couldn't remember how he had gotten here or why he was in the infirmary. Pain began to corse through his whole body, mostly his legs and his arms. His right arm was covered in a cast, and his left in a brace. Shit how was he supposed to cook like this?! Sanji would figure it out somehow. He just had to.

Sanji began to piece together what had happened. The last island they went to had been uninhabited but brimming with food to forage and hunt. He had been doing just that when the ground underneath him shifted, before he could move to safety the ground under him closepaesd and he plunged to the depths below. He couldn't remember what happened after that. Sanji pulled the covers off of him. He sat up, but before he could get out of bed, the door opened.

“Ah! You were right, Zoro! Sanji!!” Chopper came running to his bedside. “Don't try to get up! You are very injured!”

“It's fine, Chopper. I'm fine. What time is it? Shit everyone must be hungry,” Sanji had no time to lay around. He had a crew to feed and ladies to pamper. Sanji attempted to swing his legs around, grimacing at the pain.

“Stop!” Chopper yelled. “Your still hurt! You broke your legs, Sanji!” Chopper cired, hopping onto the bed, his hooves against his chest. “You have lots of cuts and bruises. You broke your right arm and tore the tendons in your left! I don't want you doing anything today! No lifting at all!”

“It was bad, Sanji,” Zoro finally said, his tone somber. “We weren't sure we would be able to even get you,”

“You're gonna sit and heal!” Sanji was not looking forward to sitting alone in the infirmary. He'd have to find a way to leave. “Zoro can you pick him up after I give him more medicine?” Chopper asked, pulling out a syringe.

“Wait, why does he need to pick me up?” Sanji asked as Chopper slid the syringe into his skin, Sanji hated that feeling. It was far too reminiscent of his childhood.

“Fuck you curly, stay in hear then,”

“Well how fuck was I suppose to know! I can hobble on my own, just give me some crutches,” Sanji didn't want to rely on anyone and if he proved he could walk just fine he could get away with cooking. He didn't want to be carried by the man he had a secret thing for. His poor heart couldn't take being so close to him.

“Nope, you're not walking anywhere, doctor's orders,” Zoro slid his hands under Sanji's body, and Sanji found himself lifted into the air. He wrapped his arms around Zoro's neck the best he could as the swordsmen lifted him with ease. Being held so close like this made his heart flutter in his chest.

<>

As Zoro carried Sanji onto the deck, to the chair waiting for him, he couldn't help but notice how light he felt in his arms. The sound of his scream still haunts him. Zoro didn't know what he would do without the blonde in his arms. Someone had already piled the chair in pillows. Everyone was working together to get Sanji to take it easy and rest. Robin and Nami were already sitting on either of his chairs. Zoro thought it was a bad idea that Sanji would be worried about serving them instead of resting.

“What's that smell?”

“Frankys got the grill going,” Zoro told him as he placed him on his throne of pillows.

“I'll need to do inventory later,” Zoro sat down by the foot of the chair, extra precaution from Sanji attempting to stand.

He and Sanji were both far too alike in that regard. This wasn't something he could train for. When he or a crew member had been hurt in the past, it was something Zoro could train, work harder to prevent it from happening again. However, there was no out training for a freak accident, an act of nature, and bad timing.

“Already done, Sanji,” Robin replied with a smile. “I got you something to read. It's a mystery novel. Hannah Swensen runs a bakery, specializing in cookies, called The Cookie Jar. When a delivery man is found, shot dead, in her loading bay, Hannah decides to take matters into her own hands and find the killer herself. It's quite a good series thus far, I'm on book ten carrot cake murder. There are recipes inside between them and your notes on the crew we can manage until you feel well enough to order us about. I'll hold it for you, Choppers already told us everything,”

“Thank so much Robin, but you don't have to go that far for me. Its my job to take care of and serve you,”

“Nonsense, now sit back and relax. I have your reading speed timed perfectly,” Zoro had no idea how she did it but it was Robin, if anyone had that figured out it would be her.

“All right! Luffy, are you ready for some Super!! good BBQ?” Franky asked a drooling Luffy.

“Yesh!” Luffy cried, throwing his hands in the air.

Zoro sat back and watched as Franky loaded Luffy's plate with chicken, burgers, ribs, kabobs and hot dogs. Luffy eagerly tucked in.

“Mm! Ish almosh ah goo ah,” Luffy swallowed his mouthful. “Sanjis!”

“Thanks bro, that's high praise! BBQ is my specialty!” Franky struck another pose, his arms above his head. “It's the only thing in can cook to be honest,”

Zoro got up when the second round was ready, Nami right behind him. Robin stayed behind to keep Sanji company. She could easily use her devil fruit to get her own food.

“You'll keep an eye on him tonight right?” Nami asked him when they were out of earshot.

“Yes, I should have been there when he fell,” Zoro knew it wasn't rational, but he could still hear Sanji's scream over the sound of crumbling earth. The sight of his bloody mangled body would haunt his nightmares. It was one thing to get hurt during a fight. It was expected even.

“Are you finally going to confess?” Nami asked, loading up her plate and both his plates.

“When he's not on painkillers,” He had confessed to Nami after she caught him staring at the blonde's ass one too many times.

“Good, I'm sick of the pinning and if this accident has taught us anything is there's no time to waste…although yah don't confess while he's high, I'm surprised he's not loopy,”

“Zoro, Sanji, and Luffy's pain tolerance is high. That might be the reason why the medicine isn't kicking in as fast as I would like, Zoro and Luffy burn through it too fast. Luckily, Luffy mostly just needs meat to recover,” Chopper chimed in. “Sanji might be nauseous from the painkillers, so don't put too much on his plate,”

“All right, Chopper, whatever he doesn't eat, we will just feed to Luffy,” Nami agreed.

“Luffy will eat anything,”

“No alcohol ethior,” Chopper added in.

Zoro whinesed. He was guilty of the last thing. He had drunk plenty of booze when he shouldn't have. They made their way back to chairs, Robin already had a plate on her lap.

“Here curls,” Zoro sat on Namis chair, she sat on the end without a fight. She normally lounged on it like some queen, but today, everyone was focused on their cook. “Open up,” Zoro took a small fork full, remembering how Sanji didn't just shovel food in his mouth. He usually took small bites, savoring his food.

[halfetirosie]

🔥😅♨️ #SquadGoals ♨️😅🔥

(Exercise 10 - 13 React-os!)

1) OH SHIT, THE PROPHECY IS TRUE!!!

✨ THEY'RE GONNA LET QUINCY GRILL!!!!!! ✨

His Dad Energy™ will be off-the-charts!!!

2) PFFFT!!! 😂

You're getting too predictable, Dante!

Nah but, it will never stop being adorable how well Eiden knows his bois.

Plus, Eiden worked Dante-Teasing™ into his explanation so seamlessly, he doesn't even give him time to react before moving on! Outstanding move! 👌

3) Blade's Robo Abilities validating all the fanfic writers once again--

Kinda interesting that Yakumo gets nervous on boats. Maybe it's just because he's never been on one before? Or because it's so different from his natural environment, he instinctually dislikes it? 🤔

4) The return of Peepaw Kuya that canonically hates water!!! 🤣🤣🤣

He's gonna do his Ghost Bullshit of popping up behind him any second now, just watch-

Yup, that's our boi! 😂 Looks like Kuya's getting too predictable, too!

Kuya's like the fuckin Lord Voldemort of this universe. Don't say his cursed name!!!

5) That's kinda funny--- they accidentally re-created the Pokemon Starter Trio (except instead of Yaku for fire/red it's Dante)!

BRUH.

If I ever had to compete against their team--even if I were physically on-par with them--I would be hella intimidated. 2 of the 3 of them are insanely competitive by nature, and all three of them are workaholics that treat everything seriously. 😨

Not to mention, knowing my luck, I'd get stuck on a team with one slacker and one...shall I say....under-skilled person. Just, based on my history with college group projects... 😭😭😭

6) I am suddenly reminded of the crazy Australians/Floridians that wrestle crocodiles...on purpose...

(⊙ - ⊙)

...I better see fanart of this scene, or else I'll be disappointed!

I can't even blame Eiden for his awe at this weird-ass/random/kinda-funny situation, cuz I'm right there with him!

Also, Impromptu Fish-Wrestling is cool and all, but when do we get to see Quincy grill???

7) 🚨 I CALL BULLSHIT!!! 🚨

Pleaseeee. ( - _ - )

You expect me to believe that Garu and Yakumo, with their yokai-senses, would actually get caught off-guard by a random animal or something? Or that Kuya would honestly believe that??? Him, the one constantly hyping up yokai and their superiority????

...Yeah, that too. Kuya ain't that nice.

He's 100% the smartass lazy kid in the group project that shoves all the real work onto the other members, while pretending that the task they chose is actually difficult/time consuming when it actually can be completed in 5 minutes.

8) Always a fan of 🐾 Cat Dad Dante 🐾 moments! ♡♡♡

I'm also a huge fan of Sooley's thematic accessories!!!

I fuckin called it, dude!!! I knew Dante was jealous of Topper getting to have stylish outfits!!!! (And on that note---who made Sooley's lil' bandana? Eiden, I assume? 🤔)

9) Leave it to Dante & Co. to militarize cooking! 🤣🤣🤣

(ㆁ△ㆁ)

I mean, look at this shit! How are they so insanely coordinated?? Did they practice the choreography?????

10) (◔_◔)

Dante, babes, this situation isn't serious enough to justify one of your classic cheesy one-liners...

(Has anyone else ever commented on that? How Dante says a ton of cringey shit (affectionate) that sounds like it came straight out of an anime?)

--That won't distract me from his impressive skills, tho. I mean, I already knew he had some cooking knowledge from Frozen Echoes (in that side-stroy where he goes ice fishing and then cooks the fish with Karu, Blade, and Eiden).

But this isn't just the rudimentary "cook a thing over a fire until it's not raw anymore" sort of situation---this is an actual understanding of how to cook something and why you should use certain methods for the best results.

My mans is fun to tease, but honestly, he deserves more credit!

Go off, king! I'm proud of you!!! ♡♡♡♡♡

11) ---*snort*---

I'm sure this is still a compliment to Dante, but Eiden just can't resist goofing on him, huh? (≧∇≦)

🔥 End of report! 🔥

[angelbitezzz]

Next one up: Day 6!

Short fic under the cut

"Oh! You wanna play basketball, Papyrus?"

"OF COURSE! THERE WASN'T A COURT BACK IN SNOWDIN, BUT FROM WHAT I'VE SEEN YOU ONLY NEED TO BE TALL TO BE SUCCESSFUL!"

The human on the picnic blanket snorts at his words, grinning and reaching a hand up in a grabby motion. Papyrus responds in kind and took her by the hand, pulling her to her feet.

"I guess you're right. But we can't just play by ourselves."

She casts a glance around to find their friends scattered in the park space they had set up on. Undyne speaks animatedly to Asgore, Sans is working the grill, and Toriel is fussing over getting sunscreen on her kid. Angel raises her hands to her mouth.

"AYO UNDYNE! WANNA PLAY BASKETBALL?"

Her head nearly snaps around 180 degrees at her words, a smug grin spreading across her face as she turns.

"WANNA LOSE?"

"Yeah, okay, whatever, GET OVER HERE!"

Undyne abandons her conversation with Asgore as she rushes to the court. The king merely grins fondly—not at all bothered at being left alone—and sidles over to the grill where Sans stands. Angel jogs over, taking an appreciative sniff of the food cooking and another appreciative look at the skeleton at work; his signature blue hoodie draped over a nearby bush in favor of his simple white beater shirt, exposing the bones of his arms, neck and collar area.

"What about you two? Basketball?"

"Oh no," Says Asgore, waving a hand. "I'm fine with cheering from the sidelines."

"What about you, bone man."

"ehhhh. last time i played, i stood around wondering why the ball kept getting bigger. then it hit me."

"Shut up!!! That's a total lie!" Laughs Angel, shoving him in the shoulder. "C'mon, you've been working hard at the grill this entire time, take a break!"

"not sure that counts as a break, pal. least this way i can stand around and look pretty. really making the best of my skillset here."

"SANS, IF YOU DON'T GET YOUR BONY BUTT OVER HERE RIGHT NOW, I'LL RELIEVE YOU OF YOUR STATION! FORCIBLY!"

"what, like, you'll take over the grill?"

"EXACTLY!"

Sans pulls his spatula closer to his chest, eyesockets narrowing slightly. The skeleton is lazy by nature, but the idea of his brother ruining perfectly good meats when they're almost done....

"fine, if you insist. just be warned, my dunking skills are the wurst."

"BUTT! HERE! NOW! AND WE BOTH KNOW THAT'S A LIE!"

"can you gimme a sec? it's almost—" "Not to worry, Sans. I can keep an eye on it for you." Asgore butts in, friendly as anything. Sans takes in the moment with a blank grin and gives up without a fight, handing the spatula over. Angel grabs him by the arm and tugs him towards the court.

"So do you really suck at basketball or are you just doing the lazy thing again?"

Sans just shrugs and grins, making her roll her eyes. By the time they've made it onto the court, Toriel has noticed everyone gathering and wandered over. She tugs up the sleeves of her t-shirt to expose more of her arms and smiles, flexing her (admittedly, pretty muscular) arm.

"Count me in! I could use the exercise!"

"Sweet! Teams are gonna be unbalanced, though..."

"NOT TO WORRY! I'VE ALREADY GOT IT FIGURED OUT!"

Papyrus pats Sans on the shoulder and puffs his chest.

"IT'S ME AND MY BROTHER (PLUS TORIEL) VERSUS THE REST OF YOU! BECAUSE LET'S BE REAL. UNDYNE COUNTS FOR SEVERAL MEMBERS."

"DAMN RIGHT!"

"Fair enough!"

Papyrus pulls out a basketball from somewhere, and the game begins. Immediately, Angel finds that, much like the many times she's had to play games with the monsters, things have very different rules. She's already not the most versed in sports—and she ends up spending most of the match watching Undyne and Papyrus go head to head with a ferocity she can only wish to match. And match she tries! It's hard being short in a basketball game, but stealing the ball can be easy if you're quick enough; and Angel is fast.

Then comes her first challenge—fucking Sans. Turns out the guy either used to play or is a very fast learner, because whenever she manages to get her hands on the ball, he's right there ready to snatch it.

"Dude!" Angel pants during a brief pause of the game, after a panicked confrontation that ended in the ball accidentally going haywire and into the nearby trees. "I didn't know I was playing with an athlete, Christ!"

"heh," Sans looks pleased, though something like sweat beads on his skull. "nah, i barely rim-member how to play, really."

"Terrible."

"you're smiling."

"Yep."

The game is on again. Angel gets lost in it, having too much fun to consider holding back. Life gives an opportunity—Only Papyrus blocking her way from the hoop. Brashly, in a move betraying her complete faith in her own terribly unathletic body, she rushes him. Time slows down. Papyrus crouches to ready himself to catch the ball, and she sees the answer so clearly, so so clearly...if she can push herself enough!

"oh shit—"

It's all the time Sans has left to speak before he reacts on instinct, reaching out with his magic and grabbing hold of her soul, hoisting her into the air on time with her jump. He hadn't really meant to help the enemy team—but a head-on collision with his giant ass brother would've left them both with bruises, and he hadn't even thought before using his magic to stop it. Well, the truly unhinged scene unfolds before them—Angel using Papyrus as leverage to push herself up, straining hard, until her hand hooks on the rim and the ball swishes through the net. Everyone gapes in awe. Sans drops his magic, but Angel stays on the rim, clutching tight as Papyrus stumbles and rights himself. There's a beat of silence before everyone starts laughing and cheering, wolf whistles from Undyne, clapping from Frisk on the picnic blanket. Angel laughs with them, and then another problem arises as her legs kick.

"Uh! Help me get down! I'm too high up!! Help! Help????"

[sparguscityangel]

Night Market

i wrote this a while ago but i thought it was cute if anyone wanted some fluff <3 oc x canon because hehe warning: mentions of vomiting but no actual vomiting happens. a character just retches enjoy!

Jak's skin prickled under his scarf, sweat beading around the back of his neck the longer he stood in front of the food stall. Instinct told him to take it off, cooing that the light breeze from the cool summer night would feel divine on his overheating skin. The clanking of armed law enforcers that circled through the rows and rows of vendors told him otherwise. He tried to not look over his shoulder at them too much, praying that his eyes didn't betray his cover as one marched a tad bit too close to him. Crap. He didn't get a glimpse, did he? The guard was tall — easy one or two feet taller than Jak, and the plated shoulders didn't seem like they were forgiving enough for him to see anything below eye-level. 

In his haste to move further away from the guard, he stumbled into the woman beside him. She jostled a little, a soft sound of surprise spilling out her lips as she adjusted to get her equilibrium back. Crap. He was lucky he didn't accidentally knock the poor thing over. He was stronger, packed with more muscle, he could've—

The doubts in his head turned into lazy droning as he felt an arm snake around his own, a body pressing to his side. As the vendor called their number, the girl squeezed his bicep and rose her other hand. "That's us!" she chimed, pulling him to stand before the plywood and painted linen that advertised some mystery cuisine. The smoke the stall generated from its grill made tears well up in his eyes, and he wondered if maybe he should've lowered his goggles too. The girl didn't seem to mind. In fact, she rattled off their order like it was second nature. Her tongue didn't roll the 'R's quite right and she definitely messed up the grammar a few times, but the rugged man behind the counter nodded and turned back to throw something onto the fire. Jak tried to peer over, stomach cramping as he caught sight of the other food currently charring on the beat up grill.

 "Now we wait," she smiled, tugging him over to the side so that the person behind them could order. Her fingers on his arm pressed into his tunic, her grip weakening and then strengthening, uncertain if she should continue holding it or let it go. Jak was too preoccupied to make up his mind on the matter either. 

 "Did you order ...?"

"No meat!" she boasted, chested puffed up in pride as she pointed to the one armed cook. His other arm ended in a spatula. Just where in the world did these people come from? "I remembered," 

 The tightness in his stomach subsided. Good. He can actually enjoy the meal and not have to pick out all the meat upon receiving it. His own dietary preferences aside, Jak still wasn't keen on the idea of outright throwing away meat — especially in a side like Haven were such things were considered a luxury. 

 He was glad for his scarf. It hid the blush the reddened his cheeks at the thought of Ru having memorized his quirk. 

Their order was ready in about ten minutes. Jak had almost forgotten about it until Ru let go of him and bounced closer to the spatula handed man to retrieve the brown paper boats that contained the majority of their food. By the time he was handing her a third boat, Jak had surged forward to grab the rest of the apparent buffet that Ru had ordered for them both. As she sought out a spot to eat, Jak paid. Ru insisted that it was her treat before they even arrived to the Bazaar, but something in Jak told him that it was his responsibility to pay, so he did. The orbs weren't exactly obtained in the most wholesome of ways, but currency was currency and he had enough to pay for Ru and himself. 

He found her sitting on a short wall a bit aways from the hustle and bustle of the Bazaar. He moved pasted the other friends eating their meals, and the closer he got to Ru, the more sparse they became. Around them, the sting lights that encompassed the entire sector illuminated them both in a warm glow.

Ru waited until he was sitting beside her before she leaned in close and asked, "Is this alright? I tried picking a spot where you wouldn't get too overwhelmed," 

Jak nodded. The peppering of the odd... friends ... was a fragile comfort, knowing that there were enough people around that the KG wouldn't even bother to inspect each and every face, but it wasn't too populated to the point where it made Jak's skin crawl and his tongue grow venomous with outbursts. 

With the confirmation, Ru clapped her hands in excitement. "Good! Now, I didn't really know what you would or wouldn't like so I asked for the most popular orders," she gestured to the myriad of boats, "Are you ready to have your tastebuds burn off?"

The entire selection didn't look to be much, now that he looked at it. Everything had been made with the idea of only trying the dish before moving onto the next, content with the business model of only selling one or two quick snacks, but he distinctly remembered that Ru only wanted to come to this specific stall. She's been talking about it for nearly a week, and he couldn't bear to tell her 'no' again. After the last time she smiled sadly and said it was alright, he was marching into the Underground and demanding a night off to take Ru to the food market. It's the least they could do, he thought, It not for me, then for her.

What did throw him off was the fiery red that almost all the dishes possessed.

"Uh, Ru?" he called, picking up one of the skewers with a raised eyebrow. The food on it looked chewy, almost like cheese, but the unnatural red color made him a little suspicious. He squinted at the stall, trying to see if he could make out where the food originated from, but it was too far and the letters all blurred together anyways for him. Embarrassment sprouted in his gut when he remembered how many times he handed something to Ru or Daxter and asked them to read it to him. 

Ru passed him the bag of soda, grunting around the mouthful she was trying to swallow before she finally got out, "Hang on! It tastes better with cheese!". Rummaging through her bag, Ru produced a pre-packaged stick of cheese that she immediately began to peel apart. She licked her finger as she laid it over the strange tubes on the skewer, only satisfied when she finally saw it begin to melt. "Okay, now try it,"

"What is it?"

"Tteokbokki! It's not from the stall, but it's one of my favorites and a great way to ease you into spicy food," she explained, hands moving about in that animated way that intrigued Jak. She reminded him of Daxter, constantly alive and in motion and the perfect sort of enthusiastic that made it easy for him to blend into the background. All the attention would be on them, though they never left him behind. 

She's cute, he found himself thinking, then promptly shoved the entire skewer of tubes into his mouth. Ru squealed. 

"Not all at once! You're supposed to eat it one at a time!" she sagged, playfully exasperated, then followed suit and devoured her own skewer. Two seconds later and she's slapping his arm to pass the bag of soda back to her. The spices hit Jak's tongue almost immediately also, but it fizzled out as soon as it arrived. He chewed through it, waiting for it to come back with a vengeance, but nothing happened. When it was eventually reduced to mush, Jak swallowed. 

"Not bad," he shrugged, "The cheese helped,"

"Cheese always helps," Ru winked, then pushed the next boat closer to him, "Now is the moment of truth!" she dropped her voice down an octave, booming out the rest like one of the oracles that Jak frequented, "Jak ... insert last name here— Are you ready to experience true spice?"

"Sure,"

"Jak!" 

"Fine," Jak rolled his eyes, clearing his throat and dropping his own voice down an octave, "I accept the challenge,"

Ru's cheeks grew pink, a strained smile on her lips as she brought her hands up to cover her face. After a few seconds, she made a rather embarrassing snort-giggle-squeal, shaking her head. "Stop, stop, stop!" she cried under muffled palms, "That was so hot, oh my God, don't do that!"

"You just told me to be more into it! I was following your lead!" 

"Stop looking at me and eat your soy chorizo!"

Ru didn't give him time to dwell. Her braids whirled around her as she picked up another boat, setting down in front of him like she was presenting before royalty. A street rat with a rap sheet the length of a glub's tongue was hardly deserving of such treatment, but he couldn't help but want to be that for Ru. Even if it was a joke, he found himself longing to be someone actually worthy of presentation and prestige, of nice things he could share with her if only to hear her laugh about it. He realized that he could never be that for her, but it was nice to dream between bites of fire. 

This time, Ru used Jak's spoon to mix the contents around. The red, thick gravy looked both creamy and textured with chunks of what looked like vegetables in it. When mixed in with the rice, it thickened into something that resembled porridge. Not only did the appearance slightly change, but stirring it around awoke a very dense aroma that made him want to sneeze. It tickled the insides of his nose, slapped his cheeks, and clogged his throat from the amount of seasoning that went into the dish. Jak coughed, and Ru grinned. 

"No way you'll be able to survive this," Ru smirked, stabbing the spoon into the mixture and holding it out for Jak, "Eat up, sucker,"

"You are ... weirdly into this, you know," Jak muttered, taking the boat with both hands, "It's kinda creepy. What's in it for me?"

Ru hummed, rolling her eyes with a grin. She leaned toward him, head tilted forward as if she knew a secret that Jak didn't. Her feet kicked innocuously, but the look in her doe eyes were mischievous, a trickster Precursors disguised as a young woman if Jak didn't know any better. He didn't, though, did he? There was a lot about this strange new time that he didn't know about, both social and historical wise. He didn't mind at first. His mind was too preoccupied with revenge, the inner turmoil inside him becoming so all-consuming that Jak laid awake at night in fear of himself.

He knew some things. Basic things. The fundamentals that were discussed by bored guards posted outside his cell. He latched onto them when the eco treatments started to get more unbearable, shaking on the stone floor of his cell and forcing himself to follow the conversations going on around him, to latch onto any semblance of human connection that he could get. 

It got him far enough outside of the Fortress, and when he reunited with Daxter and Keira, he felt a flood of relief. He was reminded that he wasn't alone, that the gaps in his knowledge weren't his alone to bear. He foolishly believed that when the world stopped for him, it stopped for his friends as well. But then, the truth was that it didn't. He was reminded in the way Daxter talked them out of situations without missing a beat, throwing in something so casual yet intimate that others look the other way. He watched as Keira chatted with other mechanics, seated quietly beside her and peeling off the label of the soju bottle as she and the others spoke about things that Jak couldn't even begin to fathom what they meant. Even Samos, as old as he was, seemed to have adapted to Haven much better than Jak had. While he was locked up, his friends grew into the city. They learned, they overcame, and they assimilated while it became painfully obvious that Jak was falling behind.

Until he met Ru. 

Suddenly, he didn't feel embarrassed about not understanding her jokes or references. He didn't feel stupid asking her what something meant or to explain something in the middle of their conversation. Even when he got overwhelmed and struggled to form words, Ru would understand everything he wanted to express verbally. She never minded. She'd just smile that warm smile of hers, pet his arm, and explained. He learned a lot from her, even if she doesn't think so. 

Though he had to admit that this particular lesson in cuisine was throwing him for a bit of a loop.

"Well, let's see," Ru hummed, tapping her chin, "If you can't handle the curry and I win, you have to teach me how to ride your hoverboard,"

"Not happening,"

"Oh, come on! I told you! It was an off day!"

Jak had a sudden bright and vivid memory of Ru asking him the same thing nearly a month ago, the lesson resulting in an ice pack on the knee and reassuring a teary eyed Ru that the board was fine. He made a face at the request. 

"A glub could've avoided that rock,"

"It was a pretty big rock! How was I suppo— no, no, I'm not having this argument again," Ru hissed, shaking her head. When she locked eyes with him again, she continued, "But if you can handle the curry and you win, you get a treat,"

That got his attention.  

"A treat? What kind of treat?" he asked, trying to keep his voice measured and not give away his hand too much. Ru was cute and all but she wasn't exactly the picture perfect sportsmanship model out there.

"A sweet one," she assured, coyly looking around them, "You'll see if you win,"

Jak chuckled, picking the spoon back up to mix the food. By now, it had turned into a russet shade of mush. The smell was strong, wafting all around them to the point where a few of the couples made faces at it. Jak kept an eye out. The last thing he needed was someone reporting them to the KG. The scarf around his hair could only do so much to conceal his identity, and Ru ... well, Ru still believed he was a good person. Through some miracle or luck of some form of sick divine intervention, Ru hadn't seen any of the wanted posters plastered around the city. He tried to take down the ones that were posted near her commute to the clinic, but they would reappear almost immediately, and yet Ru has yet to put two and two together. He couldn't tell if he was grateful or not. 

He shoved the spoon into his mouth to stop the thoughts from spiraling further.

Ru waited. Jak waited. It felt like the entire bazaar was holding its breath as it waited for the spice to knock him down.

But the spice never came. Jak took a couple more bites, holding each one in his mouth for longer amounts of time but it never came. He held the boat out to Ru. "Not bad. Could use some hot sauce," 

Ru stared. Her mouth moved as if she was trying to speak, but she has always been an actions person and she snatched the boat from him, slipping the barest taste between her lips. Her reaction was delayed, but expected. 

Her face grew hot as red eco, her tongue rolling out like a panting crocapup as she fanned herself. She slammed her fist into his bicep, pointing wildly for the bag of coke. Then, just as he was going to hand it to her, Ru sprinted for the nearest garbage bin and leaned over, the sounds of her dry heaving sending the other patrons scrambling away from the area. A few peered at the discarded paper boat on the floor, faces twisted in grimaces and hissing at the booth that it came from. 

All the while, Jak sat motionless.  

Ru was feeling sick. He should help her, right? He would need to channel green eco into her somehow, and he tried to mentally dust off the old medicinal lessons that Samos used to force him to sit through as he droned on and on about biles and humors and miasma. 

Ru's body twitched, but nothing came out but a painful sounding burp. Jak sighed. This wasn't biles, humors, or miasma, but it was Ru and whatever it was, he was sure it was horrible to face alone while her nose was inches away from unfinished tanghulus and garlic naan. 

He stood behind her, hands hovering over her shoulders cautiously. He could touch her. He should. He won't. He can't. 

"Ru ...?" he called quietly, rounding around to get a look on her face. She gagged painfully, but nothing was coming out. He called her name again, but she didn't answer. Crap. What would a good not-maybe-sorta-boy friend (friend who was a boy) do?

He nervously shifted on his feet. "Is there ... anything I can do?" he asked dumbly, wincing when she slumped miserably over the trash. "I can get you some ice? O-or I can get some help, hang on—"

"H-hold my hair?" came Ru's tiny voice, face splotchy and sweating and oh-so-adorable. Jak snapped into action, relief over having clear cut orders settling his own nervousness. Gathering the chestnut and milky hair in both hands, Jak twisted and bundled it all up at the back of her head. Some strands were drenched around her temples, plastered to her freckled skin in loops and spirals, stuck to her face like flies to honey. 

After what seemed like an eternity — though realistically probably a max of five minutes — Ru finally leaned away from the can, her canvas jacket sleeve pulled over her hand to wipe at her face. "Damn," she muttered, eyes closed as she swallowed thickly, "That was a close one,"

"Yeah ..." Jak agreed, accumulating her hair under one hand as the other cupped her jaw, bringing her closer, "Were you sick before or ...?"

Her forehead was a little warmer than it should've been against his cheek, but her lips were still covered in the curry tinted saliva and she was still sucking in the cold air in sharp intakes. He pulled away, Ru looking away as she shook her head. 

"It was the curry," she replied curtly, then shrugged, "This should've been you, you know," 

"Why are you so obsessed with me and spicy food?" Jak huffed. Ru stomped her foot, face twisted up in a pout. She was fine now. He let her hair cascade down her back. 

"You're too good to be true! You have to have at least one flaw!"

Jak nearly choked on air, snapping his head to stare at Ru as if she had grown a new head. It took him a second to gather his thoughts. "Excuse me?" was all he could come up with. 

Ru threw her hands up. "You like animals! You bring my family gifts! You wait for permission to touch me, you come running when I need help, you let me vent!"

"Ru, that's all normal," Jak laughed, but Ru silenced him with a finger.

"No! It isn't! I love this city, Jak, I do, but even I can admit that the people here sorta suck. But you don't. You ..." Ru stopped herself with a long suffering sigh, thumbing his channeler ring. He wondered if she knew what it was, what it said about him. Channelers were rare. Sages that could learn to manipulate a certain eco type was not impossible, and there very well could be many more that they didn't know about. Oracles, though not able to control eco, were still a more thriving breed than Channelers. In their absence, Haven learned to adapt. They created ways to harness eco, to guide it wherever they wanted it to go and they invented technology that got them as close to channeling as possible, but no one could handle raw eco. Not like Jak. The iron in his blood made room for eco and he needed the ring to help conduct it and when Ru moved the strap, the ancient artifact bore the smiley sticker she had given him that day in the rain. Standing outside her apartment, drenched from the downpour and shaking from the close call with KG, Ru handed him the sticker like it was cash, like it was valuable, like he was worth of a reward for simply walking a stranger home. The Ru in the past and the Ru in the present both grinned at him, close enough to kiss despite Jak's commitment to keep her as pure as possible. Everything he touched turned to bile and humors and miasma and he was determined to keep Ru safe from it. 

From him. 

But Ru wasn't afraid like he was. Ru wasn't a coward and she tapped his nose with a finger and said, "You're special, Jak. I can tell," 

He heard it said in millions of different ways throughout his life, but this was the first time he actually believed it. For once, Jak felt ... special. Not because he was a Channeler or a hero or a rebellious pet or destined for greatness, but because the veterinarian technician he walked home once said so.

The moment made Jak feel weird so he stepped away, clearing his throat as Ru continued to groan and hold her stomach. She was still feeling bad and Jak didn't like seeing her upset. 

He looked around the stalls surrounded them. The area they picked to sit in was nestled in the corner of the market, the vendors all disappointed in their placements and resting their chins in their palms as they sighed at the lack of clientele. Jak browsed through them all, but the one that stuck out to him the most was an older man facing a portable television, laughing to himself while eating a bowl of noodles that bore the name that didn't match his stalls. 

As Ru sat back down on the half-wall, Jak moved toward the old man with his scarf tucked back around his face, hands stuffed into his pockets and before he even arrived, the man grumbled, "I don't have cash. Go rob someone else," 

Jak snarled, the eco inside him thumping to be let out, but he breathed instead. Figure out the issue. Resolve it. Don't turn to violence. 

What would make the shopkeeper think he was trying to rob him? Was it the goatee? His boots? Or ... he touched his face. The scarf was a deep crimson and covering everything but his eyes. He had to admit — he did look suspicious.

"I'm not going to rob you," Jak said, lowing the scarf to show his face, "I just wanted—

"Banana milk. Two coins," the old man muttered, never looking up from the television. Jak waited for him to stand up and the milk to him, but he never moved. 

"Do I ...?"

The old man waved at him in annoyance. "Aiya! I can't hear my show!" he gestured to the screen, a black and white movie involving a young warrior and a giant animal strolling through a village as the townspeople bowed. The hair on the warrior was outrageous, standing in defiance of gravity and good fashion choices. Jak reached over and snatched the milk from behind the counter. He tossed the coins onto the counter, clicking his tongue as he turned away from the grumpy man.

As he walked away, the man called out to him. "Hey! Crazy Hair Boy!" 

Confused, Jak grimaced. "What do you want, old man? Don't you have your show to watch?" Jak snapped, gesturing to the TV. Again, the older man even spare him a glance. He stuffed a sizeable amount of noodles into his mouth, slurping them up. Was he going to have to wait until he was done chewing? He didn't have time for this. "What do you want?"

"You can be one or the other. You cannot be rude and stupid," the man finally said, mixing the broth with his chopsticks. It was the only time he wasn't glued to the screen, "Learn to read. Girls, they like boys that can read them poetry and sonnets," 

"How did you ...?" 

"You're holding a bottle of chai concentrate. Your friend needs banana milk. 'S good for those who cannot handle spicy," 

Jak looked down at his hand. The letters meant nothing to him, and they never had to. In Sandover, people just told him what to get and how. Even if he never spoke, he didn't have to. Everyone just understood him. Besides, he didn't need books. That was more Keira and Daxter's thing, never his. He wasn't good at the academic side of things, just the physical side. He didn't need to know about history or philosophy, not when he could be learning how to push his body further and harder and faster. 

If he couldn't read, he wouldn't be wasting his time reading books. It was a necessary sacrifice. 

At the cost of upsetting Ru? 

He returned the chai concentrate and picked up the smaller bottle with the smiling banana on it. "Thanks ..." he muttered, then looked around the stall, "What does you sign say?" 

"Xinjian's. That's me," 

"What do you sell?"

"Noodles. Dumplings. Banana milk," 

The bowl in his hands didn't look like it spelt the same words as the sign. "Why did you buy noodles from someone else?" 

"I never said I made good noodles," the man shrugged, popping a half of a boiled egg into his mouth.

Fair enough. Jak nodded, thanked the man again, and walked back to Ru with the milk. He tapped her shoulder with is from behind, softly offering it to her and waiting for her to take it before he sat back down next to her. "How are you feeling?" 

Ru made a face around the banana milk. After a long sip, she swallowed hard and coughed. "Like my insides are on fire," she replied tightly, coughing some more into her elbow. She held up the milk. This is good, though,"

"I'm glad,"

The conversation died down softly, the warm glow of the lights and the sounds of the lively market taking over. Ru finished the milk in record time, tossing it onto the empty plates. The night bit with the first signs of autumn, reddening Ru's nose and numbing Jak's fingers. Still, it was too peaceful for either of them to break the spell of the market. 

After a moment, though, the insistent nagging in his head got to be unbearable and he cursed before he broke the moment. "What was the sweet treat?" he asked, leaning back on his palms. Ru raised an eyebrow. 

"Huh?" 

"My treat. You said if I won, you'd give me a sweet treat," Jak tapped his chin, "I'm pretty sure I won," 

"Alright, alright, I concede," Ru laughed, "Close you eyes," 

"If this is a spicy dessert ..." but he obeyed, shutting his eyes, trusting Ru to alert him if something went haywire. Deprived of his sight, Jak was able to take note of all the aromas and sounds he hadn't before: the sweet scent of mango, the laughter of a group of friends, the smokiness of a grill. In the blissful darkness behind his eyelids, Jak realized that this was the Sandover he always wanted. The joyous comradery of community from children playing to elders eating noodles, surrounded by a diverse and exciting plethora of foods. If only the city walls were gone and he could smell the sweetness of the sea, he'd consider this—

Jak's thoughts were interrupted by something soft and velvety on his lips.

 It was caste, gentle, and sweet. Jak decided he liked it, parting his mouth just a little to allow Ru more room to deepen the kiss. Her head tilted to the right and Jak followed her lead, melting into it as Ru's hand rested on his chest. Whether to keep herself from falling into him or to follow instinct, he didn't care. He just never wanted the moment to end. 

It was Ru that pulled away, her hand now cupping his jaw to rub the bone with her thumb. Jak tried to chase after her but she dodged him, giggling as she sat back. 

"Easy, pal. You get a treat, not the whole dessert cart," Ru chimed. Jak blinked at her, realization making the moment go from a dreamy haze to sharp focus. 

"Not bad for my first kiss," he mused out loud, leaning back towards her but Ru evaded it again, this time her eyes shot open like dinner plates and she tightened her hand on his jaw. 

"Whoa, whoa, whoa ... what did you say?" 

"Uh ... not bad for my first kiss?" Jak repeated, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Is that a problem?" 

"You ... you and Keira—!"

"We tried, once, but Daxter interrupted," Jak shrugged. Ru's hand was warm on his cheek and he rested some of the weight of his head on her palm. 

"I ... was your first kiss," Ru stated and Jak nodded. She covered her face with her free hand, "Oh, Gods! You just had your kiss in the baazar next to a trash can! Why didn't you tell me?! I would've waited until we were somewhere nicer!"

Jak made a dismissive noise. "Eh, never really been the planning type. I guess you can say that I'm  the spontaneous type," he hummed, "Now where were we ..."

Ru laughed, smacking his arm playfully. His flinch was noticed but not acknowledged — the deal they silently agreed upon when Jak started to spend more and more time with Ru. Trauma or not, he still laughed at it. His sides began to ache as Ru dropped her head in her hands. 

"What's worse is that you still had some spice on your lips," Ru whined. Jak scooted closer to her.

"Maybe the tingling is from our spark," 

"Ew! Gross!" she shoved him, both of them collapsing into uncontrollable laughter, "That's so cheesy!

"You told me to close my eyes and then you kissed me! That's the biggest, cheesiest cliche ever!"

"No, that's called being cute! You're just being a creep now!" she touched her lips, wiping it with her tongue and then instantly fanning herself. "Crap! That stuff is no joke. How are you dealing with it?!" 

Jak leaned back on his hands again, regarding Ru with a suave grin. "I like sweet and sour," he winked.

"Bleh," Ru pretended to gag, pushing Jak's face away from her, "Get out mah face ..."

Jak laughed loudly at the reference, the voice of the boisterous drunk man they saw messing with a KG coming back to him in full force. Ever since they heard it, they couldn't stop repeating it to each other. It became annoying to both Daxter and Keira whenever Jak would say it without Ru's presence to make the joke make sense. The last time he said it, Keira threatened to club him with a wrench. 

"Nah, I changed my mind," Ru giggled, wrapping her arm around his neck and burying her hand in his curls. A finger teased one of the more defined ones, pulling it and letting it snap back into form before twisting it around her finger. He pressed his forehead against hers, breathing her in. She smelled like a field of flowers. "I think I like your face a lot," 

Jak hummed. "Should we head back to your place?" 

Ru grinned, kissing the corner of his mouth. "Yeah ..."

The trek back to Ru's house wasn't too far. The Slums weren't too far from the East Bazaar, but it was dangerously close to the Fortress. When Ru wasn't looking, he tore down another wanted poster. 

Her parents greeted him like they always did. They offered him food, he politely declined, and when Ru told them he was sleeping over again, her grandmother clapped. 

"Oh, good! You can help me make fry bread in the morning!" she shouted from her chair, resuming her beaded project as Ru tugged him towards her room. 

While Ru was furiously brushing her teeth in the bathroom, Jak dug around for his pillow in the closet. Ru's sister was sat on the bed, covered in an array of sparkly beaded jewelry and a tutu that has seen better days, speaking to him about the latest episode of Eco Rangers. She paused when Ru walked back in. 

"Can I sleep in here tonight?" she asked, batting her eyelashes. Ru shook her head.

"No way. Last time you slept in here, you kept him all to yourself," Ru grumbled, throwing herself onto the bed.

Jak climbed in next to her, plopping onto Ru's stomach. She groaned loudly, moaning about her midsection. "You heard the boss," 

"Get off me, you log! You're all bones!" 

Lorna whined. "Please?! I promise I won't bother you!"

"You're bothering us now," Ru rolled her eyes, then laid her hand on Jak's chest again, "Besides, we had plans to do big kid stuff," 

"Mom and dad said to keep the door open!" Lorna screeched, "Those are the rules!"

"Ew! Not that!" Ru blanched and Jak hid the way he blushed behind his hands. He wasn't even thinking of that. Maybe ever. Ru patted his chest, "But we were planning on doing a little more kissing and cuddling and cutesy name calling," 

"Now I'm nauseous," Jak groaned and Ru smacked his chest. He laughed. 

"Hush, you. Anyway, there's no room in here for you. Go sleep in your own room,"

"... Rock, paper, scissors?"

"You're on,"

Lorna stayed. Ru and Jak stole kisses when they could, waiting until Lorna wasn't looking, the animated movie on TV keeping her attention long enough for Ru to peck his lips or for Jak to drop one on their interlocked knuckles. He doesn't remember the movie, or even what it was about, just that he woke up when Lorna got off the bed to turn it off. His face was tucked into Ru's stomach, his back to the TV and his girlfriend laying on her back as she ran her hand down his spine. 

Crap. He fell asleep before he could check the windows and doors. The Morgues didn't have bars on the windows, anyone could just come in off the street and pry them open. He had to double check that the locks were all fine and the bells were in their place and—

"Shhh," Ru whispered, digging her fingers into his back. He didn't even realize he was pushing himself up until she spoke, "I checked. You're okay. Go back to sleep," 

He didn't need to be told twice. He dropped back down more carefully, curling up into Ru's stomach once more and sighing when her hand resumed her rubbing on his neck and shoulders.

Lorna made herself comfortable on the pillows next to Ru's head, awkwardly positioned to not accidentally kick Jak in her sleep again. Both sisters laid vertically, one crushed by him as Jak took up horizontal space, but he was too tired to care. Ru's gentle breathing lulled him back to sleep, and Jak fell into a dream of spicy cacti and tingling kisses.

[garmgeyr]

Solstice Plotting Call

// Keeping this one shorter than Wriothesley's 🤞 Gallagher is just Here. With the mystery surrounding these islands, and their otherworldly nature, we're not going to question the how or why. Your muse can ask him, of course. You'll get a different answer from the man depending on the hour.

I've signed him up for Requiem, but I'd like a couple more interactions. I won't be reblogging the ask meme, but I'll send asks to those who do as ideas strike.

All threads will hopefully be kept under 250 words for the duration of the event. I'm in the Discord server for this event, so ideally DM me there, but I'll answer IMs and replies on this post as well.

Bloom Commission Board (from last month, still looking)

Penacony driving school: Gallagher isn't a student, and he doesn't seem like an instructor either. You don't really know why he's here, and good luck getting a straight answer. Nevertheless, he's your company for this driving obstacle course... and probably a good thing, too, after the car goes careening off its designated course and toward the more dangerous dream wilderness. This thread will be less about driving and more about getting back to civilization before the nightmares show up.

Solstice Commission Board

Ghost Stories: I'm imagining one of two scenarios: 1) Gallagher's hanging out by a bonfire. Your muse decides to come take a break, not even necessarily with the intent to talk to him, but they get to talking anyway. Rather than a spoken ghost story, it's the shadows that start to twitch and convulse unnaturally. Are your muse's eyes playing tricks on them? Maybe they think they've accidentally fallen asleep and are witnessing nightmares blending with reality? It doesn't last long, and nevertheless, now your muse has a ghost story of their very own. Or 2) a three-way thread. Two muses begin by sharing their own spooky stories, and Gallagher listens in. He'll contribute every now and then, but he likes hearing other people's stories more than offering his own. The thread can follow a similar trajectory to the above, where the shadows bring the story to life right before their eyes.

Unrelated idea: Not a pre-written commission prompt, but the mods have said that any interactions within the setting can count for shiny flotsam. One thing Gallagher can be counted on is being there when things get dangerous. Your muse could be exploring the forest, or the mountains, or maybe the water's edge, when aggressive animals/monsters/sealife - agitated for one reason or another - attack. Enter Gallagher, and the two of them can fend these creatures off as they try to make their escape.

About Gallagher at the beach

General attire is not too different from what he ordinarily wears, just without all the accessories (tie, gloves, vest, shirt is NOT tucked in even slightly). Kind of just looks like he just got off from work.

He has a reputation for being lazy. This is not changing. In fact, it will probably only be worse. Potential interactions can be centered around dragging him into something he doesn't really want to be a part of. Try to catch him before he contrives a lie to slip out again.

With that said though, making drinks? Cooking? He's got you. Some of it might be a little experimental, but it will taste good at least. He'll be most at home hanging around a fire, a grill, or the bar.

Otherwise, he'll be lounging beachside with a drink. Or several. Old dog keeping one eye on the youngsters kind of vibe.

[zaidshair]

Zaid listened to Lokni's chatter, and thought to himself: bruv likely doesn't know he's a natural conversationalist. Sharing and curious, it was a winning combination, and likely Lokni would get along with pretty much anyone here, even if they were mostly all strangers. And honestly, if someone did try to start something with Lokni, Zaid decided he'd be pretty fucking pissed off about it. There was no reason the big man should have altercations, unless the other person was a wanker.

Zaid decided he'd keep a lookout for that, just in case. For now, he peacefully smiled, easy as a lazy cat. "We're cut from a similar cloth in that respect, mate. Work is life. Not much room for much else. You...did you have anyone back home, then? A girl? And I'm not talking about the horse," Zaid was deadpan, but gave Lokni a wink so he knew it was a tease.

He held up two fingers. "Two restaurants - my first in London, my newest in New York. Owner and executive chef, yeah. And if I don't get back home, they'll both fold. People will lose their jobs...bloody hell, it pains me, you know. It honestly fucking pains me. They might think I've abandoned them..." He shook his head, allowing himself ten seconds of palpable distress, before he forced himself to swallow it back down.

Lokni, bless him, tactfully moved on about their own eating habits, and Zaid dragged his smile back, wistful and wry. "You're a proper worker; I'm just vain, mate. Public eye and that, I suppose." But that wasn't it; Zaid just always had his own regimen. More things to control, was how Tej used to put it. "I'm always good for a cheeky Nandos, erm. It's a chicken franchise, grilled chicken, like. Not sure if it's Stateside, if I'm honest. What's your takeaway of choice then?"

This started to feel like a first date, Zaid thought in amusement, with Lokni's curiousity. "I'm forty-one. I'd guess you was about...twenty-five?" Whenever guessing someone age, '25' was the safest bet.

Zaid was curious about what 'brought out the white sage' meant, but he was distracted by Lokni's mashua find. He took the bunch, breaking off a piece of a thinner tuber to taste. Obviously cooked was the way to go but Zaid knew what to look for in raw sampling. "Hm. Good for pickling, maybe. Or fermenting. Or as my ammi says - 'acha, just put it in a curry beta, it'll taste good.'" He did a little impression of his mum, just to give Lokni a giggle.

"Mate, I'm from the city, I grew up in towns. No place for hunting unless it was small game. And that was never my thing, yeah. Lamb, beef, goat, fish, chicken - I'll eat most meats. Not pork, that's a religious thing." The map was a great idea, and Zaid felt a warm wriggle of pleasure that Lindi had also mentioned a garden to Lokni. Zaid just hummed and grunted along in agreement, looking around whilst Lokni made his notations. Their next find was even better. "Fennel! Fennel!" Zaid exclaimed in surprise, reaching for the one Lokni had. "Oh mate, this is brilliant. You need to add this to your gard-"

There was a loud crash behind them, which genuinely made Zaid flinch in fright, sudden as it was. A young man, wide-eyed and panting, appeared before them, looking slightly...singed?

"Fire - fire in the forest - help - fire -" the young man blithered, pointing behind him. Had Zaid seen him around, was he from the cruise ship? Of course he was, but Zaid couldn't place his name. The young man pointed, down a forested path and that was when Zaid smelled it: smoke. Not a lot, very wet and woodsy.

"Go get help," Zaid told the younger man, pointing in the direction he and Lokni had just come from. "Go now!" At the order, the young man just looked from one to the other with a strange, weirdly apologetic look on his face, before he bolted away.

Zaid, unthinking, followed the path. It was dangerous, it was likely very dangerous and charging ahead was a bloody stupid thing to do, but Zaid just had to see for himself how bad it was. If the young man was just exaggerating, or if it was serious.

When he got to the clearing (and he just assumed Lokni wouldn't leave his side), the fire revealed itself to be serious, but for a different reason. It was a circle of fire in a clearing, and right in the middle was a very terrified-looking small deer...thing. It kept bolting, trying to escape the circle of fire, but was clearly too intimidated and small to make the leap over the flame.

Zaid stared in confusion, but only for a brief second. He twisted to stare up at Lokni, grasp Lokni's forearm. "Oi - Lokni. Listen, you said you could make clouds and - and your storms. That means rain, yeah? What do we need to do? What do we need to do to make it happen, love?"

"Saddled with chores is exactly what it is. Not that I mind too much, helps keep me from thinkin’ too much. A luxury few can afford," Lokni replied as he wiped his dirty hands on his jeans. Hearing about Zaid's restaurant experience was surprising and gave Lokni pause. "So you're telling me that you own a restaurant, Chef? I didn't know about that, I just thought you cooked for a livin,'" Lokni couldn't help but grin. Not that he thought that Zaid was incapable, it was just a little surprising, that was all.

"'Course there aint' nothin' wrong with having your occupation as your identity. God knows that's what I've been doing all of these years," 'to make up for the fact that I'm nothin' else without it,' Lokni mentally added, "'specially runnin' a business, that's somethin' to be proud of." Running a business was something that Lokni couldn't dream of, or at least he hadn't thought it was possible for someone like himself, but Zaid was undeniably more than capable. His food was delicious and his skills were not your everyday run of the mill.

At Zaids admittance to his diet, Lokni raised an eyebrow, giving him a slow, up and down look before saying, "you don't look like you've ever eaten much, no offense, Chef." He hadn't meant offense, but Zaid was rather trim, more trim than Lokni pictured any average chef to be- but then again what the hell did he know about the culinary world. The closest thing he had to culinary skills was when he put chips on his sandwiches. "I'm lucky that my job keeps me in shape- or else I imagine that I'd be a lot rounder." A half-truth, his father had always been somewhere in between malnourished and reasonably in shape, but Lokni hadn't wanted to admit to any similarities between himself and that piece of shit. Eager to change the topic, Lokni switched gears, "what's your favorite "takeaway" place?"

Lokni couldn't deny that he was amused at Zaid's quip about being "young and eager to please," his lips curled into a smile. "You're implying that you're no longer young?" Lokni asked, not really sure how old Zaid was. It was a question that he often wanted to ask the other islanders, however, he found himself resisting the urge. But here Zaid had offered up the information as if it was a matter-of-fact. "I like my food with a good amount of seasonings. I like to try different things. At home, I have a hot sauce collection, but some of them are so spicy they take away the flavor and are just painful. My mother used one by accident and was so upset she brought out the white sage." A fond memory of her, a mysterious warmth spread throughout his body, as if her spirit was there next to him.

"Well, just your luck Chef, these are bitter but they add flavor. They're kinda' like radishes, I guess." Lokni waved the mashua in front of Zaid for emphasis, "I'm sure we can find other spices and stuff as well. Is it for religious reasons that you don't hunt? Do you eat meat when it's available?" Lokni hoped that his questions weren't too straightforward, but he was genuinely curious. There were so many cultures and religions outside of his little bubble, and his thirst for that kind of knowledge was insatiable.

"We can find this again by looking for these little flowers." Lokni indicated the brightly pigmented flowers that looked like drops of sunset, "also, I'm making a kind of rough map. I was gonna' ask Gael to help me make something a little more accurate and topographical, but I thought I'd get a basic map made first." Lokni pulled out the piece of paper that he had kept tucked away in his backpack, and used a small pencil to make a little rudimentary drawing of what he thought the mashua looked like. This was pretty far from his camp though, so he knew that this wouldn't be an area that he'd visit often. Still, it was good to have a reference for it.

Without further ado, Lokni began to head deeper into the wilderness, in a direction that he hadn't been before. Surely they would find more edible plants that they could forage, right? Lokni couldn’t help but nod in agreement at Zaid’s mention of things being more “long-term” if they were to set up a communal garden. “Funny that you mention that, I had the same conversation with that nice lady, Lindi, just about a week ago. We were talking about setting up a garden. It does feel long-term, but if rescue is coming, we have no idea when that will be. Better to be prepared than starve before rescue gets here, am I right?” Lokni reasoned, although he couldn’t deny that making a communal garden was something that he was looking forward to if it ever happened.

Carefully skirting the ferns and brush in the jungle, Lokni spied something familiar ahead. The fine leaves that grew up over the heads of the ferns were a little reminiscent of the scarring Lokni had from the lightning a week or so ago. Lokni wondered if his identifying skills were correct, because if he wasn't mistaken, that was definitely fennel. He stepped over an outstretched tree root and crouched next to the plant, examining it carefully. Experimentally, he broke off one sprig and took a sniff, not always a safe thing to do, but Lokni was certain at this point. The familiar scent of licorice wafted into his nostrils causing him to smile confidently. Handing it to Zaid he said, "take a sniff of that, I think we've found fennel." Off in the distance, there were violet flowers shifting in the wind, undisturbed by the wildlife.

[grillpartshub-blog]

Buy #Lazy Man #Barbecue- Built in Grill- #Natural Gas Grills in #Affordable Price

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[xsapphirescrollsx]

Heatwave

Happy Birthday wifey, @titty-teetee​. I know it’s a bit early, but I hope this gift will brighten up the day some. 

Pairing: Black!reader x Dark!Alpha Syverson

“It’s hot as fuck out here,” you groaned.

You picked up the tea glass and placed it against your temple. Drops of condensation rolled down the glass and mixed with the sweat sitting on your skin. 

“‘Hotter than a pig in a sausage factory,” Betty giggled.

You huffed out a slightly bemused cackle. “There’s a chicken out here somewhere laying hard-boiled eggs.”

Both women chuckled while the humid air blanketed the bare skin of their legs, arms, and faces. Saturday morning laziness with your friend turned into spiked ice-cold drinks by the afternoon. Naturally, with nothing much to do, the invitation to a bbq was brought up. You were already groaning inside silently at the inconvenience of it all. The insects that late-night porch lights drew in, the wafting of grill smoke, and the greasy-looking guys with loud months and poor social skills. 

Betty insisted and you obliged. You sat with her waiting for the ride to said party while staying in the afternoon shade of the veranda. Once a cold drink, now watery, was placed back to your side as you leaned against a pillar. 

“I hope at least Teddy doesn’t burn the burgers this time,” you groused. 

Betty gazed at you out the side of her eyes. “Like you give a damn about his burgers. The man’s got an ass that could break bricks. We’re just there to watch him cook,” and then she took a long swallow of her drink.

You could hear the thumping before you saw the car. Heavy bass pounded the air around your ears as over the hill at the end of the street a pea-green four-door car came kicking up dirt on the gravel road. Soon after the friends of Betty came to a skidding stop in front of your house you were in the back seat. The windows were down as you glance over at Betty sitting next to you. She was singing along, her hands around her mouth as she shouted the words of the chorus. You want to join too but you reside to amused observation and try to enjoy the illusion of cooling off in the hot gusts of air that circles throughout the car.

The houses of the small town are left behind the further you drive. Replaced by hyper green mesquite trees, wild grass, and barbed wire fences the sun makes its final goodbyes under the sweltering horizon. When the car arrived at a worn-out pavilion, this place was surrounded by cars, tall trucks, short ones, and even vans. It was a gathering you hadn’t anticipated. 

Before the car even stopped you could smell the food, hear the music, and the dispersed chatter among the crowd. It wasn’t long before you found yourself alone. Betty had broken off with a man holding a baggy and a sixer. You hadn’t really recognized this crew, there were maybe two or three familiar faces from past get-togethers. Most of them appeared decent enough with sharing their food with the locals. But nonetheless, you couldn’t help but feel out of place. So you sat on a cement bench under strung-up white Christmas lights, once again silently watching the party swell and ease as small groups of two or three circled different barbeque pits. 

“I reckon you could use something to eat and a drink?” said a man’s voice.

A man with a thick beard and wild wavy dark hair plopped down beside you. Under the soft glow, you caught beads of sweat running down the side of his face and get lost in the dense growth.

You looked from the unopened beer he held out, then back to him, “I think you could use that yourself.”

The man’s lips creased-up with a nod and handed it to you anyway.

“Ya but lady’s first,” he said. The chilled, wet from the cooler he plucked it from, stayed within his fingers. 

You conceded and took it from him with a thankful half-grin. 

“My name is Sloan, but folks call me Sy,” he said quietly.

You told him your name, twisted off the cap, and pulled a long drink off the beer. At the same time, your senses pick up in a shift in the wind. The thinness of cool air swept over your skin and was gone just as quickly. Once again the layers of humidity, heat, and smoke returned only now something was different. 

You drank deeply again, pondering what an odd sensation that was, and turned to Sy - and wondered if he too felt it. He was watching you, well he was looking at your body, your legs, your hips. The smell of him near reminded you of something from your past, but the memory was no longer there.

You catch his eyes with yours, he doesn’t try to hide what he was doing before. Sy stood, and held out a hand to you, “Want something to eat? My pit is over there, it’s got the best smoked steak around.”

This stranger, the man, you had rarely seen him at these gatherings. If had appeared nice enough. Though your experience in observing him was neither here nor there really. And now, he was asking after you.

He stood up, his eyes still turned down at you, and held out a firm hand. “What’d ya say?” he asked with a side ways grin.

You slightly shrugged while leaving your half-drank beer on the bench then took his hand and let him guide you across the small pavilion. He let your hand go to shake a man’s hand while humble bragging about the rings he achieved on a brisket. Still, you followed him off the paved surface, onto dirt and gravel to a space nestled in the darkened mesquite trees. A 90’s looking travel trailer hooked to a pickup curved around the staging area where Sy did his work. The only light you saw was that seemed to stream from the edge of the trailer to a pole near the pit.

Wondering near the well-seasoned black pit, the smell of smoked beef, jalapeno peppers, and bacon lingered in the air. 

“It’s all done sweetheart, take what you want.” he offered and handed you a paper plate. 

You wanted to sample everything laid on the grill. But what caught your attention was a tin baking dish with pastry on top. 

“What’s that?” you asked. 

Sy stood near you, his warm arm touched yours as he began to dig a spoon into it. “That’s my secret recipe apple cobbler,” he said lightly.

He put a small pile on your plate, you grabbed a plastic fork and then dug in. You swayed as you ate, the sweet dessert hit your tongue and you were in heaven. Humming at the flavor, you gave him a delightful smile.

“Last time you were around these parts, I overheard it was your favorite,” he said as he closed the lid.

Eyebrows raised as you chewed, you nodded sluggishly. Sy stepped to the side of the pit, threw a long hand towel over his shoulder, and asked through a disarming grin, “Does it disappoint?”

You didn’t give him much but another nod. Turning on your heel you started to walk away toward a rickety plastic chair to enjoy the food when something rolled over your body. Tiredness didn’t describe it. The feeling slithered through your nerves and shredded your ability to keep your eyes open, to walk, to stand.

And just when panic started to set in, the plate and fork slipped from your hands and you felt an arm around your body and the world went dark.

Wide-eyed and surprised you tried to move your arms but couldn’t. You felt softness beneath you but above laid Sy. Covered in sweat that collected into a few droplets that fell onto your body as he shifted between your legs.

It was then you realized he was naked and so were you. The smell was back, a thick heavy fragrance that wasn’t off-putting. In fact, it was intoxicating. Inadvertently your hips moved into his.

Finally, the bore-down aggressive glare he was giving you broke as he smiled down at you. 

“I knew you were the one,” he whispered. Sy leaned in toward your lips and licked. He pecked them soon afterward even after you tried to turn your head. But his arms remained pressing in on yours at the sides of your body while his hands held you still. 

He licked your mouth again and then pressed his lips into yours, forcing your mouth open with his tongue and tasted every part of your mouth. He groaned that turned into a growl and reverberated into his chest. The sensation prickled your skin igniting goose bumps down your body. 

You were slick by then, against your will but wet nonetheless, and slowly you felt him enter. His lips were still on yours, his beating heart thumped against your chest as he relentlessly stroked inside of you. 

During the tussle of his impacts, you managed to wiggle an arm free. You pushed on his chest, but he was like concrete underneath your palm. Unmovable and solid he didn’t budge, instead, his hand coasted down your face to your wrist and pulled up to his other hand above your head.

“This isn’t right,” you shook as you spoke and tried to pull away. “I don’t want this, I-”

Sy’s nose hovered over your ear as he forced a turn to your head with just a nudge from his forehead. “I’m in you now,” his breathing came in fast bursts as he spoke. “I’ll always be in you and if that ain’t right-”

He buried himself in deeper, “-then I don’t know what is.”

“You drugged me.”

Sy mumbled a curse, he lifted his head and closed his eyes in pleasure. “Take my knot.”

You didn’t understand. 

He felt wider, the pain of him pushing himself to the hilt had you trying to pull your legs together. He kept going with every thrust the ache of stretching around him made you whine and whimper for him to stop.

This sick hillbilly fuck was going to kill, you thought.

“Take my knot!” he hissed. 

The blood-curdling holler bellowed from your throat and was swiftly smacked back down as his hand folded over your mouth. Whatever it was he pushed it entirely within, you felt it pulse when he stopped moving. You stared up at him. Sy’s eyes met yours with an expression of ultimate gratification. Eyes wide, a stupid toothy smile spread wide which broke with each pulse into climatic surprise.

Again you tried to release your limbs and struggle against his grip but he felt even stronger now. He held you still, tight against him as his lips stayed above his knuckles that continued to cover your mouth.

“I’m breeding you for mine,” he snapped. “- be still sweetheart-” and scolded you.

Anger flashed across his eyes, “I don’t know if I can control not hurting you.”

His grip on your wrist tightened, and his mouth fell open as he pushed more inside you. Pressing his pelvis, the pulses came faster. Agonizing minutes passed while he stayed sunk inside you. And without warning, he began to pull himself from your body.

He breathed out hard and slumped over you. His entire mass laid on you in a suffocating pile of sweat and muscle. You were in shock that you didn’t feel his other hand release and replace it with something harder. It wasn’t until you heard a click that your mind came back to this dark room. 

His hand slid off your mouth to above you and felt another cold piece of metal click on your other wrist. 

Sy sat up between your legs, head tilted up to the ceiling of the trailer his hands gently stroked your thighs.

He sighed roughly through his lips and then cracked a smile.

“I told the fellas this was a great area to find mates,” he let out another exhilarated sigh. His head and eyes fell back down to you.

Too terrified to talk back you listened while subtly pulling on whatever he attached around your wrists.

“We’ll have to do this a few more times,” he said to you, but his eyes shifted to the only window as he turned his toward it in thought. The only light, from the bulb near the pit outside, brightened his features. 

“But I doubt’ll I have to, you smell fertile as hell,” he continued. “The pack’ll pull up stakes tonight so we are back home soon.”

“You’re my mate,” His head slowly turned back toward you as he spoke, “Mine.” 

He put his hand on his bare sweaty chest just over his heart, “And soon you’ll be my wife.”

[doll-r-t]

Syverson’s proposal

This was supposed to be a small caption to a Moodboard I made but it got out of hand. So here you have it.

Moodboard by me, pics found on pinterest. If you wanna use the moodboards for your fics you can but please tag me.

Not Proofread to lazy rn.

gif credit to @littlefreya​

Syverson was a typical southern man. He loved big portions, BBQ, and having his men over for a cookout. He loved his woman with all his heart and would carry her over every mudpuddle. He worshipped her, calling her his sweet peach. He provided for her and took great pride in it. He built on your guys' house a vegetable garden, some chickens, and his second baby girl Aika. He loved drinking his coffee watching the sunrise on the freshly built deck, and even more when you would come out just in his shirt. So now that the house was ready it was only natural for him to make an honest woman out of you. He had prepared dinner outside. He had cooked rumstake and vegetables, with grilled potatoes. He opened a bottle of (non-) alcoholic wine and hug up fairy lights all over. He had sent you out for the day going shopping and getting pampered, pressing his credit card in your hand, kissing you on the forehead, and ushering you out. He had printed pictures of you hung around the table he had set up. From your trips, dates, and all the other beautiful and amazing times you had. He made a trail of roses from the front door to the table at the backside of the house. He lit candles and lined the rose trail. As long as he was doing all of this he was cool and collected but as soon as the sun had set and he could hear you coming towards the house he started to sweat. He was not the type of man to wear a monkey suit but for this, he pulled on light beige slacks and a white shirt. The ring was safely hidden. He had studied your jewelry any kind of hints to what you like. He even called up your best friend and asked her what you liked. You were stunned when you came home, you had gotten your make-up and hair done, and nails Sy had insisted. You dropped your shopping bags calling out for Syverson. You followed the rose trail your heart beating. You looked around trying to find him, thinking he might be hiding somewhere trying to spook you. He had done that before. But when you stepped out the backdoor, there he was. Illuminated by the soft light of the fairy lights. You looked around trying to take it all in, the candles, the pictures, the flowers, the beautiful set table, and him. Yes him, the man you fell in love with, the man you still loved and would love for eternity. You walked toward him, confused at what was going on. “Sy?” He came towards you, his hand softly tilting your head up by your chin, giving you a soft kiss. “Happy anniversary my beloved.” You had kept your eyes closed, savoring the warmth of his lips, the smell of his aftershave, and the rumbling of his voice. “Happy anniversary, love.” You whispered back, not wanting to burst the bubble you two were in. He nudged his nose against yours. “Come let’s eat.” He led you towards the table, pulling out your chair. He served you some drinks. Water cooled, some (non-)alcoholic wine and in case you wanted something else he had a third glass. He took your plate, takin this time he neatly stacked everything on, even put on some herbs as decoration. You just smiled at the care he took, it was so like Sy. Attention to detail, always wanting the best for you and doing as much as he can. It made you choke up a bit. How had you gotten so lucky? How can a man love you so much and made you feel loved like no one ever did? 

You too had a beautiful dinner laughing and recounting your first date, the once that was a disaster, or the time you got stuck out of nowhere during a road trip. After dinner, you both looked at the pictures together. He had an arm around your waist you both holding your glasses of (non-)alcoholic wine and looking some more at the pictures.

He had put on some soft piano music during dinner. But switching it to a soft country song, a man singing about how much he loved a woman. He took your glass putting both on the table and took your hand, you both swayed to the music, exchanging soft kisses and being close to each other. It had gotten a bit colder so he told you he would get you a shawl. He went inside to his dresser pulling out the ring box. He put it in his pocket. Picking up your shawl his heart was hammering. He went to the refrigerator pulling out your favorite dessert. He put the dessert down and wrapped your shawl around you. He helped you into your chair again. He feared you could hear his rapid heartbeat. He tried to eat the dessert as if nothing was going on. But his stomach was in a knot. “This was a beautiful dinner, thank you Sy.” You walked to him kissing him on his lips and sitting on his lap. “You are the best man I have ever known love.” He nuzzled your nose, breathing in your sent. It smelled like home. You both kissed some more and you opened the first two buttons on his shirt. You knew how much he disliked wearing what he called a monkey suit. But my God is one sexy man. 

You excused yourself for a second, going to the bathroom, you quickly pulled don the new sexy lingerie you wanted to surprise him too. Once you were done you checked over your make-up, and hair, pulling on your dress again. You went outside, Syverson stood by the fairy lights, he seemed nervous. Once he saw you he beckoned you over to him. He took your hand taking a deep breath.  He leaned his forehead against yours. “Bear with me okay?” He took a deep breath. Standing back a bit. “I still remember the first time I saw you, I remember what you wore and how beautiful I thought you were. I remember-” He chocked up a bit, breathing out hard he went on. “I remember nights laying in bed thinking about you. How my heart skipped every time you texted me. How nervous I was on our first date but how excited I was to feel nervous again because it meant I would be with you. I love you so much, more than I thought possible. And I promise you I loved you yesterday, I love you today, and I will love you forever.” He let go of your hand stepping back. You already had tears in your eyes, but once you saw him getting down on one knee you started to cry. “Will you make me the honor of becoming my wife?” You could only nod, holding out your hand shaking. Your smile was brighter than it ever had been. Syverson breathed a sigh of relief. Getting up he took you in his arms, kissing you hard. You both looked at the ring on your finger laughing at how right it looked. He took you in his arms again spinning you around. “I can’t wait to introduce you as my wife.”

I tried to make everything as inclusive as possible. I am still working on one with a disabled reader Moodboard but it is a bit hard to find pictures. Let me know what else you wanna see. I am too unsure how Indian wedding dresses are or how in general other cultures dress for weddings. I am European and white and I do not want to disrespect another culture.

Taglist:

@tumblnewby​ @irishprincess89​ @wheretheriversrunintothesea​ @amberangel112​ @sofiebstar​ @omgkatinka​ @enchantedbytomandhenry​ @snowbellexx @daddys-littlewhitegirl​ @pjkimrn​ @zealoushound​,

@lunedelorient​ <3

@tragicphoenix13​

@alexa-fangirl-forever​

@vhjlucky13​

​

[dragonmuse]

“Izzy dodging touch is second nature” OW OW OW. my heart!!! picturing jim and roach being good at the hands-off-Hands approach but most of the revenge crew strike me as casual platonic touchers. would love to see a little ficlet (or even a 5+1) of all the times people go to touch Izzy and don’t manage to, and then one person who does. if you’re so inclined!!!

(ok first off 'hands-off Hands' is amazing and I love you. here's some of that and yes, you definitely get a 5+1)

Pete

“So.” 

They sat across from each other. Lucius had not-so-subtly formally introduced them then gotten up from the table to ‘get something’. 

“Yeah,” Izzy’s focus was somewhere over Pete’s left shoulder. Which was a blank wall. 

“He set us up, huh?” 

“Obviously.” Izzy considered that for a second then added. “Fucking brat.” 

That startled a laugh out of Pete and Izzy did finally look at him, a little shifty still around the eyes. “What?” 

“He is a brat,” Pete said fondly. “Hot one though. You know the best way to get back to him?” 

“What?” Izzy asked, just curious enough not to bark it. Pete counted that as a win. 

“When he starts coming back, just laugh. We both will. Then don’t tell him what it was about. It’ll make him nuts.” 

“Will it?” 

“Just watch.” 

Lucius, apparently deciding two minutes was long enough to leave them, looped back. Pete laughed, nothing over the top, just a chuckle. After a second, Izzy joined in and he had a pretty good laugh, actually. One of these days, Pete would get him to do it on purpose, he decided. 

“What’s funny?” Lucius asked, sitting down beside Izzy. 

“Nothing,” Pete said hurriedly, which of course made Lucius lean in. “Really nothing.” 

“C’mon,” Lucius looked between them. “Iz?” 

“Not worth explaining.” 

“It’s worth it if it was funny!” Lucius declared. “You can’t just not say now.” 

And that went on for a few more minutes, much to Pete’s quiet delight. Idly, he went to tap Izzy’s hand to signal that it had been successful, something he’d do to almost everyone he knew. His fingers hit the table. He was sure Izzy’s hand had been there a second ago, but now his arms were folded over his chest. 

Huh. 

Oluwande 

“Hey, can someone help with this?” he called out, hauling in a package that had been left by the back door that weighed a surprising amount. 

To his surprise, Izzy manifested in the doorway, holding out his hands.  Oluwande wasn’t sure what to make of the man yet. He was a dour presence on the rare nights he was at the bar, and his peace with Eddy seemed tentative at best.  But he hadn’t done shit to Oluwande and Jim had a weird curiosity about him. 

“Give it,” Izzy held out his hands. 

“I mean it’s pretty heavy.” 

Izzy stared at him and Oluwande reluctantly handed it over. Izzy’s weight shifted, but his arms barely moved as he carried it inside. 

“Where does it go?” 

“Uh, probably the storage room?” Oluwande trailed him in, watching him handle the thing with ease.  “I have no idea what’s in it, but Luc’ll probably sort it out.” 

“Fine,” Izzy slipped behind the bar. Oluwande got out in front of him to get the door. Izzy didn’t turn on the light, but still set it unerringly down on the card table that held a few other boxes. 

“Thanks, “ Oluwande went to clap him on the shoulder as Izzy went back out. His hand whistled through the air. 

Fucker was fast. 

“Whatever,” Izzy mumbled. 

Later, Oluwande would ask Jim if he smelled or something, but they confirmed he was fine. Izzy was just fucking weird. 

Frenchie 

“You’re going down,” Frenchie declared. 

“You can certainly try,” Izzy said dryly. 

“Would you two calm down?” John sighed. “No one’s keeping score.” 

“I am,” Frenchie said tartly. “Drop the ball.” 

It was a nice afternoon, a little crisp and very clear. Since their first park party, meeting up for a lazy afternoon had become du jour for small groups of the Revenge. Today was the first time Lucius had managed to get Izzy to come along and he had spent most of it at the grill with Roach, apparently comfortable in the thick cloud of smoke Roach was generating. 

When the soccer ball came out though, he’d tracked it noticeably until Frenchie had circled around towards him, dribbling carefully,

“You gonna join in or what? Teams are uneven.” He’d been pretty sure Izzy would refuse, but figured he could at least say he’d offered. 

“Fine,” he’d said instead, stolen the ball out from Frenchie’s foot and gave a respectable beeline towards the goal until Jim intercepted him. 

Frenchie was not entirely proud of his competitive streak, but here they were anyway.  John tossed down the ball reluctantly and then it was on. They had a bit of a threeway scrum, John staying well out of it and then Frenchie broke to left with the ball in his control, headed down the field.   

Izzy snapped in out of nowhere,  an abrupt kick that sent the ball flying towards John. Frenchie watched it go and neglected to change his own trajectory,  tripping Izzy up. The man went down hard, rolling a little so he took it mostly on the shoulder. 

“Shit! Sorry! You okay?” 

“Fine,” Izzy rolled onto his back. 

“You surprsied me,” Frenchie offered and held a hand down to help him up. 

Izzy was on his feet beside him in a blink, without reaching back. Then he was gone back down the field. Fuck. Frenchie tailed back after him with a laugh. 

The Swede  

“Free hugs!” The Swede declared, draping himself around Frenchie’s neck like a scarf. 

“Aw, they’re always free though,” Frenchie laughed, patting him on the back. “Did you take something?” 

“Why do you ask?” The Swede rubbed his cheek slowly against Frenchie’s shoulder which felt very interesting. 

“Just a hunch.” 

“Molly,” he admitted. “Everything is so bright!”  

“Okay then, Clingy McClingerson. Let’s find you someone who wants to be petted, huh?” 

“Okay!” 

The birthday party was in full swing, the bar being manned by the catering service. Eddy was wearing a crown of some kind and sitting on the stage like a monarch while Stede dropped grapes in their mouth with a relentless giggle. It sounded like bubbles.

“Hey Olu, you good with someone petting your face for a bit?” 

“Sure thing,” Oluwande laughed. “Hey Swede.” 

“Hi!” the Swede plopped down into Oluwande’s lap. “Do you have interesting textures?” 

“Probably, go ahead and find that out.” 

The Swede played with the seams of Oluwande’s shirt while he chatted with a group of people that the Swede though might be queens from amateur night. 

“I’m thirsty,” the Swede realized. 

“Yeah, that tracks,” Oluwande shoved him gently. “Sit down on an actual chair for a bit, I’ll get you some water.” 

The table was kind of sticky. The chair was hard. The Swede got up and wandered off. 

Izzy was in a dark corner in the back, the Swede almost stumbling over his boots. 

“Hi!” The Swede said brightly. He reached hand out to see if the leather of his jacket might be pleasing and Izzy took a side step. 

The Swede stumbled forward and was only saved from faceplanting into the wall by a sudden grip on the back of his shirt. 

“He’s over here!” Izzy shouted over the music. The grip turned to a full on pull, then a brisk shove and the Swede found himself facing Oluwande. 

“Hi!” 

“Hi,” Oluwande shoved a bottle of water into his hands. “Drink that before you dehydrate, Smiley McSmilesson.” 

“Okay!” 

Stede 

“Don’t suppose you want me to fix that? Your hair is a mess from the wind.” 

“Fuck all the way off and into the sun, Bonnet.” 

“I’m sure I’d just slide back off anyway. What do you use on your hair anyway? Astroglide?” 

+1 Pete 

The door to from the stairwell opened and Pete groaned with relief as Izzy came through. He got up off the doormat. It was late in the way that made everything seem just a little bit harder. 

“Thanks so much for this,” Pete said with relief as Izzy handed over the key. “I’m so sorry.” 

“You figure out where they are?” 

“Luc has them,” Pete groaned, getting the door open at last. “He just texted back finally. My fault, I’m so used to sticking them in his bag on drag nights, I forgot we weren’t going to the same place. You should come in, you came all this way.”  

Izzy did follow him, to his surprise, then headed right for the bathroom which explained that. Izzy had only crossed the threshold once before and then only very reluctantly. 

Pete finally got to set down his drag bag. Being locked out for well over an hour had put the time obscenely late and he felt doubly guilty. 

If it hadn’t been for the sure knowledge that Lucius, John and Frenchie wouldn’t be back from their guest gig until tomorrow, Pete might’ve held out.  As far as he knew, Izzy was simply the only one with a spare. It was so rare all four of them weren’t around that it had never seemed necessary. Clearly wrong. Pete would have to get a dupe made and give it to Roach at least.  

“You want something to drink?” Pete offered when Izzy re-emerged. He’d started to assemble his own late night snack. Just cheese and crackers, something so he wouldn’t wake up ravenous. 

“Water,” Izzy decided. He looked a little rumpled and something occurred to Pete with a sinking stomach. 

“Did I wake you up?” 

“It’s 3 AM,” Izzy planted his elbows on the countertop. 

“Yeah, that’s not a given for us, but I guess it is for you. Sorry again.” 

“Stop apologizing. What kind of crackers are those?” 

Pete pushed the box towards him, let him examine them as he got down a glass. To his surprise, when he turned around, Izzy had finished cutting the cheese into very neat cubes and was clearly chewing through one of them, along with a cracker.  

“You can crash in Frenchie’s bed if you don’t want to head home again,” Pete offered. “I’d say John’s, but he stripped the sheets before he left and didn’t get around to washing them.” 

“It’s fine. I’ll head out in a few.” 

They ate quietly. Pete wasn’t sure he’d ever actually seen Izzy eat something and he did so with impressive determination. Not sloppy or anything, but with a mechanical speed that meant Pete had to hustle to make sure he got enough of the plate. 

“Can I ask you something?”  Izzy already looked like he’d regretted asking as soon as the words left his lips. 

“Sure, what’s up?” 

Izzy hesitated, then plunged forward, “Do you ever...how do you deal with me even existing? It never seems to bother you.” 

“Oh, the big one,” Pete nodded. “Truth?” 

“Yeah or I wouldn’t fucking ask.” 

“Sometimes it does. You two have something going on that I don’t get and it’s really intense.” 

Izzy ran a hand through his hair, “It is.” 

“I can’t give him that. Sometimes I think maybe I failed somehow. That I can’t do that.” It was something he’d turned over a lot when Lucius started getting serious about Izzy, but then Lucius had agreed to marry him and that had been a pretty good reassurance as things went. “But then he comes home and he’s happy to be here and he’s not shy about showing me that. Works out.” 

“I can’t give him what you do,” Izzy agreed and didn’t even sound that upset about it. “I’m trying to make peace with that, but you don’t let it show like I do.” 

“Because I’m not on of life's many assholes,” Pete took a sip of his own glass of water. “And you’re pretty much their king.” 

Izzy gave him a hard stare and then Pete had to laugh. Izzy snorted, then to Pete’s surprise laughed along with him.   

“Listen,” Pete said gently, when the laugh died off, “we’re in this together, basically. I think we should both get a fucking A for effort on this whole experience.” 

“Be my first goddamn A on anything.” 

“Same, man, same.” 

“I should go,” Izzy yawned. 

“Yeah, bed is calling me too.” Pete walked him to the door then hesitated. “Normally I’d hug someone who ran across town in the middle of the night for me.” 

Izzy considered him, then held out his hand. With a grin, Pete shook it. 

“Good night, Pete.”

“Night, Izzy. Thanks again.” 

“Don’t mention it.” 

But of course Pete did mention it. Lucius was delighted.

[effeminateboyninja]

♡ dating team 10 hcs ♡

Choji

has been crushing on you forever is but is nervous to ask you out. What if you only like him as a friend? :( eventually Shikamaru convinces him to go for it and he figures why not? If Shikamaru says it’ll work then it just might

buys you flowers and asks you on a proper date like a total gentlemen. and you’re like, finally??

takes you out for AMAZING dinners at least weekly and will not let you pay the bill (his love language is gift-giving I just know it)

i saw another person hc that he would call you ‘dumpling’ and just, YES HE WOULD, that's so cute pls

loves innocent intimacy like holding hands or washing each others hair

absoluuuutey loves when you cook for him. It doesn’t matter if you’re a world class chef or can barely make grilled cheese, he will down every bite. he just thinks its so domestic and sweet of you

always bringing you your favourite snacks when you’re at work, he loves seeing the way your face lights up when he walks in unexpectedly

THE BEST CUDDLER. Choji’s cuddles would literally feel like home, don’t @ me on this

can’t get enough of you in his t-shirts, you just look so small and precious. He even sends you home with a couple that smell like him

he’s so nervous to kiss you he thinks about it a thousand times before one night you guys are leaving your usual date spot and he’s looking at you under the streetlights and you just look so damn cute

“can I kiss you?” and you don’t even answer because you’ve been waiting for him to ask for weeks, you just take his adorable, plump cheeks in your hands and place your lips on his softly and you can feel him smile against your mouth

Shikamaru

he was not expecting to fall for you. he’s got other stuff going on, okay?

but one day he’s watching the clouds and all he can think about is how the only thing that could make it more perfect would be if you were laying beside him and he knows he’s in deep

and it’s a distraction really, so he just gets it over with and thank god you feel the same way cause that sure would’ve been a drag

but it’s the furthest thing from it and suddenly this notoriously lazy man is getting up early to meet you for breakfast and he can’t believe it himself

don’t get your hope too high though, he still much prefers an afternoon watching the clouds with you or spending a night in with his head on your lap while you watch movies

speaking of his head in your lap, PLAY WITH HIS HAIR! he will pretend to be annoyed at first but will melt under your fingers

pretty soon he’s asking shyly for you to play with his hair all the time (he’ll deny it adamantly to anyone who asks though)

cuddle positions don’t matter as long as you two can fall asleep comfortably. A nap date true romance for this man

loves your mind, will brag to anyone who’ll listen that he’s got the smartest girlfriend in Konoha

your first kiss is kinda hot and heavy ngl

you two are in a heated debate and he can’t keep his eyes off your lips as you’re absolutely destroying him in the argument. he’s not even hearing your words anymore at this point so he just leans in and shuts you up

“does this mean I win?” he rolls his eyes and kisses you again, softly this time “yes, I concede"

Ino

she’s a natural flirt, so at first you’re not sure if she’s interested or it’s just her bubbly personality

but she really does care about you, and she wants you to know it. so she asks you out with a grand gesture in front of all your friends and there’s no doubt in your mind that you’re the only one for her

literally Konoha’s new power couple overnight, step aside Naruto and Hinata

loves to have fun with you, you guys go out dancing together almost every weekend

but her favourite part is when you guys leave together at the end of the night, tired and holding one another up the whole way home so you can gently wipe off the other’s makeup and fall asleep together

remembers all your silly lil anniversaries and brings you your favourite flowers for every single one

loves holding your pinky when you’re walking together

always nearby you in public, hand on your waist. it’s not that she’s possessive, she just loves showing you off

literally so quick to swerve anyone who’s interested in her, like, “hey” “sorry I’m taken”

i feel like she’s a big spoon, don’t ask me why. she won’t say no to little spoon though

your first kiss takes place after a romantic date, you’re sitting across the table from one another and she just leans forward to softly touch her lips to yours and it feels like you two are the only ones in the room

Asuma

knows you have feelings for him as soon as you catch them, he’s just perceptive that way.

he lets you know he feels the same with his actions, he just doesn’t make a move right away. he enjoys the pre-relationship banter and tension

then one day he finally asks you to make it official, “who are we kidding at this point?” and you’re relationship feels so natural like he’s actually your best friend

knows all the best spots in Konoha and takes you to them often

expect to be scooped up in his big arms and just squeezed every now and then, this man doesn’t do half-assed hugs

doesn’t get jealous at all. in fact he thinks it’s kinda funny when other people flirt with you, he knows he got a good one

probably the most supportive partner out there, he doesn’t hesitate to tell you how proud you make him and how much he loves you

secretly loves when you get on his ass about smoking too much, it shows you care (he won’t quit though)

big spoon! He’s a protective lover and he likes how small you feel wrapped in his strong arms

your first kiss feels like you’ve shared thousands before. it’s like your lips were made for each other

Asuma is a kissing GOD I just know

[nbrook29]

Kiss or Slap

Sander doesn’t remember when exactly their group made the riverside near the Scheldt their new hangout spot, but he couldn’t be more grateful for it as a cold breeze washes over his overheated body, providing a momentary relief against the scorching heat falling from the sky. It’s probably why the park is fuller than it usually is on Thursday afternoons, packed with people spread on their picnic blankets, searching for a bit of shadow under the big trees and desperately craving a bit of wind. 

It’s so hot he doesn’t even feel like sketching, preferring to just lie on the grass without moving a single muscle, and dying in peace. Even the enticing smell of cinnamon rolls that Noor brought with her isn’t enough for him to reach out and take one from the basket, the action requiring too much movement on his part.

“Guys, come on, we have to start or we’ll never get it done! Sander, get your lazy ass up.” He grunts when he feels Leon’s merciless fingers jabbing him in the ribs.

“Can’t we wait until it gets a little less hot?”

“No, cause that’s not happening in the nearest future and we need new content,” Nathan butts in, followed by Noor, which makes Sander officially outvoted. So he heaves a deep sigh, puts his shirt back on and ruffles his hair to make himself more presentable, rolling his eyes at Noor’s appreciative whistling.

“Someone’s gonna snatch himself a bunch of kisses today with that smoldering look,” she teases, pretending to give him a once over.

“Is that your way of telling me you want one for yourself, sweetheart?” He’s immensely proud of himself when her entire face scrunches up in disgust.

“Eww, no, feels like incest at this point.” Which is kinda true given the fact they’ve known each other since kindergarten and became best friends making sand castles. He fires an obnoxious wink at her, fully anticipating a shove which comes as expected within seconds, with Noor calling him a creep in between laughter.

“Who should we start with? Senne? Wanna go first?” Sander watches as Leon takes out his camera equipment and checks the settings as the rest collects their things.

“I guess, yeah. And then Nathan after me?”

“I’m not doing it, man, you know Britt, she’s gonna flip out.”

“Be a good reason to break up with her,” Sander mutters under his breath, not really feeling apologetic when Nathan shoots him a glare. It would be a long time coming, and honestly, Sander can’t wait for that moment to come. Just being in her presence gives him chills, she’s that much of a horrible person. A few years ago, he read something about alternate universes and sometimes when he looks at her he can’t help but think there’s a history there with the two of them, in a past life or something. At least it would explain that weird energy between them.

If it’s true, he feels very sorry for that Sander. 

He roots for him to run far away from said devil’s spawn.

“I can go next, I don’t have the ball and chain,” Noor says innocently, but she’s smirking over Nathan’s shoulder at Sander who pretends to high five her in their shared hatred for Britt.

“Yeah, us lonely birds will sacrifice ourselves and take the hit for the wellbeing of our channel,” Sander laments playfully, making Senne snort.

“Dude, you’re on your own by your own choice.”

“And pickiness. Don’t forget pickiness,” Noor adds smugly.

Sander huffs in protest. “I’m not picky! I just...” He cuts off because he’s not about to just explain it all now.

“Just what?”

“Specific about what I want.”

Brown curls, brown eyes, shortish, lean, pierced ear, cute giggle, elegant hands and a smile brighter than the sun. 

To be exact.

“Yeah. That’s picky.”

“Whatever,” he replies grumpily, and decides to ignore Noor’s knowing look. Sometimes he feels like she has a sixth sense and can read him like a book. Or she’s just less oblivious than the boys in their friend group. That’s a totally possible option too.

Thankfully, she doesn’t push him further (she’s awesome like that), though Sander has a feeling she’s gonna grill him later when they’re alone. For now, she checks her lipstick in her phone as they all briefly plan the video.

Not like there’s that much to plan; a few days ago, they decided to shoot a kiss or slap challenge for their YouTube channel because it had been wildly requested by their viewers.

Sander still doesn’t quite know how he became a part of a YouTube channel in the first place, always considering himself to be a bit more, well, sophisticated than that? But Leon was into it from the beginning and made them all participate in exchange for free beer, until one day one of their videos blew up.

If you can call getting 100k views on one video blowing up. 

Anyway, they got semi-popular amongst Flemish teens and even managed to snatch a sponsorship with Mentos (however small the offer was) that paid actual money. And he had just managed to move out of his family house so any money coming his way he welcomed with no questions asked. 

So they’ve kept shooting silly challenges slash anything else that’s a trend at a given time and have been able to cover their art supply needs with what little they earned. And, though Sander refused to admit it in the beginning, it’s actually kinda fun. It’s definitely better than his part time job at Pull&Bear where he has to deal with obnoxious customers on an almost daily basis.

They record a short introduction near the river, quickly going over the rules and explaining that the three of them will be competing in who gets more kisses versus slaps. 

“Hey, you know what, this is actually unfair cause you both can kiss anybody,” Senne points out all of a sudden, receiving four pairs of unimpressed glances.

“No one’s stopping you from getting kisses from boys too, dude,” Sander is quick to shut him up, shit-eating grin on his face as he gives him his first (light) slap to the cheek. 

They follow Senne around the park with a camera as he turns on his charm and smiles sweetly at the girls he chooses for the challenge, doing surprisingly well on the first few attempts. But when they venture deeper into the park and he tries his luck with college girls, he gets 5 slaps in the row to the rest of the group’s utter delight. In the end, his results are a blow to his pride and even Sander feels sorry for him, giving him a pat on the back while trying to hold his laughter in at Senne’s grumpy face.

Noor does much better, naturally, as her upbeat personality and a wide smile have always made boys and girls turn their heads. She gets a kiss after kiss, blush after blush, and two phone numbers in the process. Senne argues again that it’s unfair because no one’s gonna slap a girl anyway, but Leon just calls him a sore loser while Noor shamelessly flirts in French with another girl right in front of the camera.

Sander’s very proud.

Taking a quick sip of water, he gives Leon a thumbs up and starts his round, coming over to three blond girls chilling near the skateboarding ramps, trying very hard not to come off as creepy and clarifying the kiss part being only a cheek kiss. The girls erupt in giggles, but they all grant him a light kiss. One of them tries to flirt with him after, but he shoots her down before she can get too into it.

“Such a heartbreaker, you,” Noor coos at Sander’s pained face when they all walk away.

“That’s you, and you actually enjoy it,” he quips back, sticking his tongue at her.

“I do not, shut up!”

Fifteen minutes and fourteen kisses later he’s officially in the lead, sealing his victory with a kiss number fifteen he receives from a cute redhead. He’s gloating in Senne’s bemused face about nobody choosing to slap him when he stops in his tracks.

It’s the proof of his hopeless infatuation that he’d recognize that laugh everywhere.

He looks around for its source, but he comes up short. Then, his eyes focus on the skatepark area and his heart starts beating faster.

Because it feels like a sign. Like the universe is giving him a chance to finally do something. Make a move.

“Hey, can we shoot one more try?” He asks the guys, trying to sound casual while glancing furtively in the direction of brown curls.

“You’ve already won, but I guess?”

Nobody questions him about his reasons, they just follow him to the ramp.

And he’s so fucking nervous. 

It’s incredible, really, how he generally has no problems talking to people he’s interested in, conversation flowing without him even trying, gaining easy smiles and appreciative looks wherever he goes, some natural confidence to him. 

But that boy. That boy is something else.

He makes him question everything he says, makes his palms sweat and makes his deep hidden shyness come onto the surface.

Sander saw him for the first time during Open Day at the Academie in may, strolling casually through the hallway with his friend, completely oblivious to the turmoil he was causing to Sander’s heart.

That was the day Sander saw an angel. 

Fate placed him on his path again sooner than he could’ve hoped, the boy participating in a 2 week film course at his school only several days after he saw him for the first time. And he tried so hard to convince himself to talk to him over that time, but he only managed a few smiles while passing him by in the hallway. 

That and that one stupid joke he said to him while they were waiting in line at the cafeteria that makes him cringe in despair just thinking about it. Seriously, it’s like his entire cool evaporates when he’s near him.

But, the boy laughed at it. So maybe it wasn’t as horrible as Sander is making it to be. Or he was just being nice. 

Robbe. 

Robbe, who he’s been crushing on ever since that fateful day in may.

Robbe, who was at the same party he was last weekend.

Robbe, who he talked to at that party and managed to calm his nerves enough to be charming and funny.

Robbe, who giggled, blushed and bit his lip at Sander’s dumb jokes that evening.

Robbe, who slipped through his fingers because Sander blacked out soon after.

He almost never drinks, but that one night he did, celebrating the beginning of summer break, and not realizing his usual abstinence meant he was now officially a lightweight. What an awful timing.

Robbe doesn’t notice him right away, having his back turned to him while talking animatedly to his friends. Taking a deep breath and plastering a smile to his face to hide his nervousness, he approaches them.

“Hey guys, got a second?”

He notices the recognition in Robbe’s face right away, and Sander shoots him a quiet “hi” when his eyes meet his, an unsure smile blooming on his face.

“Hey, what’s up?” One of the boys nods at the camera.

“I’m Sander, and we’re shooting a video for our YouTube channel, the kiss or slap challenge,” he quickly explains, the boys’ faces lighting up.

“Hey, we have a channel too! I’m Moyo, this is Jens, Aaron, and Robbe.” Moyo reaches out to bump his fist with him and damn, Sander has to find that channel if Robbe is a part of it.

Jens levels him with a look. “So, you want us to kiss you or slap you?” 

“Pretty much, yeah?” Sander chuckles because he’s aware it’s ridiculous, but he’s a man on a mission here, give him a break.

“I think Robbe should represent all of us, don’t you think so?” Moyo proposes, tongue in his cheek as he checks with the rest of his friends. Sander catches the death glare Robbe sends the boy before looking back at him and crossing his arms, looking a bit out of place. And, fuck, the last thing Sander wants is to make him uncomfortable.

So he asks softly, “you’re in?” and waits for agonizing five seconds as Robbe watches him, eyes narrowed, before his features smooth out and he smiles at him.

“Sure, why not.”

Relieved, Sander lets out a chuckle and tries to keep his cool. “Okay then - kiss or slap?”

Robbe squints against the sun and makes him wait another few seconds before he answers, but Sander’s not worried because there’s a soft smile on his face and obviously his angel wouldn’t-

“Slap.”

Wait, what.

He can hear his friends bursting in laughter at this unexpected turn of events while Sander can only stare in shock because how could he miscalculate the situation this much?

Gulping, confused and heartbroken, he asks, “you’re sure?”, to which Robbe nods with a poorly hidden glee.

“But you have to close your eyes cause I can’t hit you while you're looking at me.”

Heaving a deep sigh and trying to save a face despite the humiliation flooding his body, he nods and closes his eyes, steeling himself for it.

But it never comes.

Suddenly, he feels a hand cupping his cheek and he flinches a little, but then soft lips touch his in a kiss so gentle he blinks his eyes open, not knowing what’s happening.

“That was payback for you promising to call me and not keeping your word,” Robbe whispers against his lips before leaning away, something sad and wistful passing through his face. Sander is left completely dumbfounded, ignoring the hollering from the two groups as his eyes fleet all over Robbe’s face.

It’s difficult for him to collect his thoughts because holy fuck, Robbe has just kissed him and he’s internally freaking out. He finally manages to get his bearings when the remnants of a smile slip off Robbe’s lips.

“I-, Robbe, you have no idea how much I wanted to call you, but I don’t have your number.”

“I gave it to you. At the party?” He doesn’t look like he believes a word Sander is saying.

“Um, I kinda blacked out and don’t remember much after like one-ish?”

“You saved it though, I saw you typing it in,” Robbe argues again, but this time he doesn’t look so sure. “Wait, what’s your number?”

Sander watches him entering digit after digit before hitting call. He fully expects a plain number to appear on his screen, eyes widening when he sees what pops up instead.

zk bambieys 🥺🦌👁️💘🧡💖💞 calling

“Fuck, you did give me your number.” He’s not fast enough to hide his screen from Robbe, but he can't even feel embarrassment once he notices the frown disappeared from his face.

“Bambi eyes?” There's a teasing note in his voice, but his pink cheeks sell him out.

Sander scratches his head. "I was very drunk, you can't hold it against me. Also, your eyes are really beautiful," he clarifies, winking when Robbe laughs at his shameless flirting. "Hey, I tried to find you on instagram, but nothing came up. I was really hoping we're gonna bump into each other again. Sorry for being a dumbass and not realizing I had your number this entire time?”

“It’s okay.” Robbe shoves his hand into the pockets of his jeans, swaying on his heels. Sander decides to put them both out of their misery and take the initiative.

“So if I asked you out, would you say yes?”

It looks like Robbe’s about to nod, but then he bites his lip, an almost cheeky smile directed at him. “I guess you have to call me to find out.” And then he gets on his skateboard and casually skates away to the nearest ramp, pulling a surprised laugh out of Sander.

If he was intrigued before, now he’s totally smitten with this wonder of a boy, because damn. 

Their friends finally seem to regain their voices and speak over each other at what just happened, but Sander doesn’t pay them any attention, just takes out his phone again and pressing the call button. 

Watching as Robbe comes to a full stop at the top of the ramp, he cocks his head with a grin and waits until he picks up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Sander.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Robbe laughs into the speaker.

“Will you go out with me?”

He meets his eyes across the skatepark as Robbe makes him wait again.

Then, with a smile so radiant it overshadows the sun, the boy finally gives him his answer.

“Yes.”

[anubislover]

A Good Heart

(for @heart-pirates-week Day 1, with the prompt “Protective” for Jean Bart)

Standing on the deck of the Polar Tang, Jean Bart stared out at the horizon in thought. It was hard to believe it had been nearly a year since he’d been freed from his bonds and joined the Heart Pirates. He’d never thought he’d be a free man again. Never thought he’d live another day without the feel of that explosive collar around his neck. Never thought he’d be able to stand tall and feel human again.

God, he owed Trafalgar Law everything.

The crew itself was a good bunch, too. Despite initially insisting that he outranked him, Bepo had quickly endeared himself to Jean Bart with his cuteness and intelligence. After they’d gotten off Sabaody, Shachi and Penguin had gone out of their way to get him settled in, putting together an appropriate room for him. Ikkaku had managed to put together some clothes for him to wear that wasn’t his slave rags until they could get a uniform his size. Uni had shown him the ropes of living on a submarine, while Clione had grilled him on what types of food he’d like added to the menu.

Sure they were at times odd and dorky, but they were more of a family than his old crew had been. That lot…well, they’d been decent enough, but they weren’t nearly as close as the Hearts. Didn’t have the same trust or bonds. To them, piracy was nothing more than a job, their shipmates colleagues. Jean Bart might have been the captain, but he hadn’t felt especially protective of his men.

His features darkened at this realization. Perhaps that had been why they’d been captured. Why he’d failed as a captain. Maybe he’d deserved the cruel hand fate had given him.

“You know I won’t let them take you back, right?”

The big man didn’t jump in surprise, but he did lurch forward slightly, having not expected Law’s low, lazy drawl from behind him. Still, he composed himself quickly; years under the hoof of his old masters had taught him to hide his emotions and reactions. “Captain?”

Casually, Law leaned against the railing beside him, looking out at the sea. “The Celestial Dragons. Becoming a shichibukai might make me a government dog, but they can’t order me to give you back. Well, they can, but fuck if I’ll listen.”

Ah. Of course. Law had recently revealed to the crew why they’d been collecting all those hearts. Naturally, the reaction was mixed—as much as the Hearts supported their captain and his brilliant plans, no one was particularly happy about becoming government dogs. Jean Bart included, which was probably why Law had spoken up, assuming that he’d been brooding over that.

“I trust you, Captain,” he replied, nodding. While he didn’t like it, Law had proven himself to be a capable man and master strategist. It was obvious he had no intention of being under the Navy’s control for long. It was just another part of his long-term plan.

“Glad somebody does,” Law grumbled, face somewhere between a scowl and a pout. “Ikkaku gave me an earful over why my plan sucks. Cited the danger you’d be in specifically. Figured I’d make sure you knew it wouldn’t be an issue.”

He had to smile at that. It was easy to picture the engineer giving her captain a piece of her mind. Law ran a tight ship, but Ikkaku seemed to get some leeway when it came to voicing her concerns. He wondered what the story was there. “She’s a good kid. All of them are, really. You’re a lucky man to have them as subordinates.”

Despite his lingering annoyance, his expression softened with grudging affection. “They are, and I am. Lucky to have you, too. It’s been…nice, having another person around who understands the difficulties that come with being captain. Been a big help, especially in the paperwork department.”

“You’re giving me too much credit. I wasn’t a particularly good captain,” he stated, unable to look at him, shame surging like a tsunami.

Law raised an eyebrow before shrugging. “Mmmm, maybe, maybe not, but that doesn’t matter now. The only thing I care about is that you’re a good Heart. And over the past year, you’ve more than proven that.”

“Have I?”

He gave him a disbelieving look. “You’ve fought side-by-side with us. Shared in our victories and losses. Even been a key component in a couple of my plans. Are you telling me you don’t think you’ve proven yourself?”

“I failed my crew once, captain.”

“Then learn from your mistakes and don’t do it again. Tell me, do you feel more protective of the Hearts than your old crew?”

There was no hesitation in his answer. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because…” he paused, not quite sure.

Law seemed to know, though. “Because they’re a band of lovable idiots who are impossibly loyal. It’s hard not to feel protective,” he stated with a smirk before turning to go back inside. “Where you failed as a captain you’re succeeding as a subordinate. Own that. It’s us against the world, so we’ve gotta have each other’s backs. Have I made myself clear?”

Chuckling, Jean Bart stood up straight and gave him a salute. For a man renown for his cruelty, it seemed Trafalgar Law had more heart than one might think. It was easy to see why the crew adored him, and why he cared about them in return.

Law was protective of his men, a former captain-turned-slave included, and Jean Bart would gladly reciprocate.

“Aye-aye, Captain.”